Before you get somewhere you have to go somewhere.

The collection of airports this trip have been those in Albuquerque; Denver; Newark; and Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic. With checking in, security, eating, waiting, layovers, flight time, twenty hours has gone by as quick as a Clint Eastwood, Dirty Harry marathon on Saturday television.

With every trip having some good, bad, and ugly moments, my time in the Newark airport are somewhere between bad and good, closer to bad because of the four hours layover plus another three hours eaten up when my plane has to be sent to the shop and they have to find a replacement- all because of a red blinking light. 

At eleven this evening, waiting for even ticket agents to check in to work, there aren’t many bodies to get in my way but all the familiar sights are here.

There are transport golf carts picking up stragglers who have trouble with the long distances between terminals and gates. There are security men and women with walkie talkies on their hips, blue ball caps, and whistles, vigilant. There are pilots dressed for work, standing in line for coffee but able to whisk past security easily. An announcement, repeated often, advises us ” not to take luggage from strangers and report such incidents immediately..”

The Newark air terminal is clean and close to New York City. It is a United Airlines hub. There is shopping for those that want it and many travelers, even at this late hour, are plugged into the internet, charging cell phones, playing video games or watching movies that sometimes seem more real than what we see around us in the real world.

Some twenty hours later, with a little cold, Scott is coughed up in Santo Domingo, feeling like a Jonah swallowed by the whale. Airports are to be enjoyed, tolerated, if possible, but not to be lingered at like Tom Hanks in the movie ” Terminal. ”

Picked up by Berluis at the airport, whisked down Avenida of the Americas past palm trees and the Caribbean Sea on one side, industrial areas, hotels, restaurants on the other, it is not snowing.

Escaping snow is one of my main directives.

When it snows in the Dominican Republic, all Hell is breaking loose.

 

Send this to a friend