I saw this view as I walked Frankfurt airport today...what felt like many, many, many miles of Frankfurt (without even really seeing it). Going through security...again...made me think of a quote I read in the Lufthansa in flight magazine. It told the story of a concierge in a hotel in California, purportedly the "first concierge in the USA". (I'm not quite sure how they identify these things.) This concierge was well traveled in terms of understanding people, at any rate, and he said as he spoke about the kinds of people he dealt with that "Some people are independent, some are like teenagers, and some are babies". The same, in my mind, goes for airport security. I'm in the independent category. I know to take my belt off, my laptop out of its case, even a particular hairclip out of my hair or else I will be pulled aside every single time, minutes of wasted life going by as I know what they are looking for but cannot help them. I don't want the security man to (as he did today) talk me through each step as I go, as though I've never come through before. The teenagers are people who (regardless of age) are either so excited about their trip that they can't sit still, laugh loudly at everything, and are constantly distracted. They need continual steering, and they don't seem to notice. And the babies haven't got a clue. The little old man who doesn't understand why his belt and shoes must come off. Who insists on explaining that no, he didn't pack his bag, his wife did for him. The small child who is more interested in looking at the big machines than in stepping through them to the other side. The hiccups in security come when one category conflicts with another. The independent stuck behind the teenager. The bay and the teenager together, trying vainly to be as prepared as the independent they see ahead. It's an exercise in great patience, as our famous concierge whose name now escapes me would say.
So, seeing a little beauty is a welcome thing, even if it's sharp lines and cold blue. It gives the impression of speed, and yet I am standing still, the great walkway moving me on whilst I pause to see this beauty, to take a little bit in before I rush on. Isn't that an excellent reminder to us - and one of the reasons I'm doing this blog in the first place. How quickly we rush, not just through airports, but through life. How many people I see using the moving walkway to move them just that tiny bit faster, to hurry them along more than they could go on their own. I used to wonder why anyone would not use the moving walkway, why any person would insist on using their own two feet instead. Now I know. They're taking in a little beauty wherever they can find it.
My head is beginning a dull throb, my choices of meals are slightly discouraging, and I have flights to go before I sleep. But there is beauty here. And when that beauty feels a little cold or man-made, I can see the softer side in the human beings surrounding me. Two small girls, dressed identically in white tops and black leggings, do a little pirouette dance as they move into and then beyond my vision. A businessman orders a glass of white wine and inhales it slowly before the first sip - not to impress anyone, for he is alone and facing the window - but simply to enjoy the bouquet. A pink-and-rose frilly top on a lady, perfectly feminine and announcing that its wearer is ready for the sunshine, the rest, the peace. And the beauty of being on holiday.
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