Travel is about discovering unexpected and hidden places. Many times these places are hidden in plain view. You may pass by them day after day for years only to discover them by chance. My chance discovery was at a place I had visited hundreds of times, my hometown airport.
It was late in the afternoon last week, when I was arriving home from some forgettable business trip to Washington DC. I was fortunate enough to get a direct flight instead of a trip around the horn. It was a Canada Air regional jet with hard seats sized two inches smaller than the space required to inhale a full breath of air. I called the process of sitting absolutely still with no room to move as being in “suspend animation”. The 45 passenger regional jet was never designed for a three hour cross country flight. It is literally a pain in the ass to sit in those seats for three hours without moving. Getting up to visit the restroom is typically out of the question.
The plane lands and pulls up to the gate. As the tone sounds indicating that it is acceptable to stand up, everybody on the flight jumps into the aisle. This process is much more dramatic on regional jets because of the confined space and the fact that everyone is in considerable pain from the rock hard seats. Once in the aisle the formation resembles what the army used to call “nuts to butts”. For the brief time is takes to unload the plane all rules about public space are suspended. I’ve seen people who rode the Tokyo subway every day for years begin to panic in this cattle stampede.
Eventually I the people begin to file out of the aircraft past the flight attendant with the vacant stare and plastic smile. The first breath of fresh air in the jetway is the first signal to your body that you are close to ending this latest round of torture. Quietly I file past the crowd of people waiting in the lobby, scanning the subdued faces. I allow myself a small grin while thanking my lucky stars that I am exiting the plane, not getting ready to load the plane like the poor fools I’m passing.
Most of these emotions and actions are instinctual responses. I am on automatic pilot, slowly working my way to the door like a rat in a maze. My first action upon exiting security is to stop in at the men’s room in anticipation of the long drive home. I shuffle in like normal and turned the corner. I think to myself “They must have remodeled the restrooms since my last visit”. The urinals used to be over there. I begin to hunt for the new location of the urinals. Within a second or two of realizing they don’t exist here, light went on! This is not the men’s room this is the ladies room! The primitive part of the brain took control and panic set in. The preservation by flight reflex kicked in. I started heading for the door as quickly as I deemed publicly acceptable. Moving at a rate any quicker than what I was traveling, would I believe target me as a pervert.
As I approached the door to exit, I met a lady on her way into the restroom. Typically I’m never at a loss for words or a funny comment, but I didn’t have much meaningful to contribute at that particular point in time. Startled by my presence we were standing face to face about six inches apart. I turned my shoulder sideways allowing her to pass and gave her what I thought was a nervous smile. In reality the combination of shock and a false nervous smile probably make me look like the pervert I was trying to avoid. I picked up speed and headed for the car.
While driving home I began to think about this new hidden world I just experienced. I could only compare the experience to the men’s room which I was so familiar with. It was so different, it was disturbing to me. The ladies room was vacant and baron. Every one was hidden behind closed stall doors. It was quiet and depressing, with no activity. In contrast the men’s room is always filled with men standing around in plain view. Although conversation is not encouraged at least you feel like you are part of a larger group. Activity is visible and noise fills the space. Since this will be probably my only experience in a ladies restroom for a long time, I will be struck by a single impression. “Man, what a lonely place”.
