We picked Dave up at the airport last night, at nine o’clock. Old Lambert was a happening place at that hour. Terminal 2 was slammed. Traffic was so backed up that it impeded our progress to Terminal 1. We drove up to the departures deck and began waiting for Dave to appear. I picked the farthest spot, the one behind another car and a van to lay low in. Dave’s plane had arrived earlier than scheduled and was having difficulties at the gate. Will someone please move the damn jetway, please. All too soon a roving security guard appeared to shoo us away, because we were loitering in a TSA controlled area, don’t you know.
First, he spoke with the occupant of the van and then the car next to us and then he walked up to us. I lowered the window and he said, “I’m going to give you the speech…” To which he quickly went off script from. Conspiratorially, he explained that we were being monitored by closed-circuit surveillance cameras, so he had to put on a good show. He told us that he would be making another circuit of the concourse and then it would be another ten minutes before he got the radio call to tell us to move along, which should be more than enough time for our passenger to get here. We both thanked him vociferously for this indulgence and then I asked him what was the deal at Terminal 2?
He told us that six planes had just landed and 1,500 people were all trying to leave at the same time. It was then that the commotion at arrivals, directly below us made itself known. There was the chirping of sirens, honking of horns and a cop car’s PA blaring for people to move along. Taking notice of this the guard commented that it was a good thing that we were up here at departures, because it would have taken us 45 minutes to wade through the congestion below us. We thanked him again, he did his circuit as promised, but paid us no more heed and Dave arrived soon afterwards and we were off for home, lickety-split.