I’m guessing all taxi drivers are Indian at 3.30am. Not that drivers spontaneously trans-nationalate come the hour of the wolf, just that hard-work gets done by hard-workers. I guess there are worse jobs, and traveling exposes you to a fair few nominations. Anyone who works in the travel industry is basically dealing with people at their most fatigued, expectant and stupid on a daily basis.
If you step back, amid the buzzing blue carpet sameness of airports, there’s a chance to see the world how a lion might. The migration of the mumbling many. The food chain is clear, from the seasoned suits who can seemingly simultaneously shave, i-jack and eat economy scrambled eggs with a pin, to the blinky shufflers who wander to the airport help desk and ask,
“Which way to the airport?”
On this food chain, I’m the equivalent of a mid-sized zebra. Happily mid-pack and hidden. Average smart but have seen enough maulings to know you don’t argue with LAX security about taking your shoes off, bag-size or favourite flavour of chewing-gum
Mass travel, for all its indulgent gadgetry reduces us to base pack animals – jostling our way to the best feed and hoping it’s the other guy who gets it.
A lion or two wandering airports, literally, now there’s an idea! I’m gonna mention it to LAX security next time I pass through.