The faces of Lambert Airport
I have been in and out of Lambert Airport something like 26 times in the last 18 months. But who’s counting? I know it’s familiar because I recognize the smell. Eau de Lambert. It’s part red onions from California Pizza Kitchen but the rest is the scent of frustrated humanity.
Besides the smell, I know the faces of TSA agents, gate agents, ticket counter and baggage guys. They’ve become familiar to the point that I know who is likely to be working depending on the day I’m flying.
There’s one particular gate attendant that I like. He’s a real professional, with probably 35 years or more with the airline (I’m sure I heard him tell someone that earlier this year). Nothing phases this guy; he’s impossible to ruffle. He’s got a dry sense of humor and a stick of gum for every flight he loads.
Boarding my flight to Dulles, I was in line behind several Japanese businessmen. Just as we reached the ticket scanning machine it jammed. “It was made in Japan,” the gate agent said, not skipping a beat. The suits in front of me thought it was HILARIOUS, although one stooped to see if he could tell if it WAS a Japanese product.
The gate guy never cracked a smile. All business, he cranked everybody through despite the outdated scanner. When I fly, I always want that guy at my gate.