There’s a place where disappointment and despair reigns. It is a place where disbelief, sadness and anger is concentrated so intensely that light and joy can not penetrate. This place is Gate 35 at Reagan National Airport in Washington DC. It took a number of consecutive trips before I realized the true nature of Gate 35. It is the place where broken toys go.
Over the past six months I have had the occasion the travel to Washington DC via Reagan National five times. Each one of these trips was a Friday single one day bender, where I would awake at 4:00 am in order to catch the 6:00 am flight to Reagan National. The early morning flight was always uneventful and usually arrived early. The clue I was overlooking was that we would not arrive in Washington at Gate 35. In order to conduct a full day of business in the city I would book the last flight home which was the 7:30 pm flight from Gate 35. Each time the same pattern emerged.
Always on schedule, I would arrive at the airport a little over an hour early to check in and grab dinner. Reagan National is one of the best airports in the nation to eat at. In the concourse are a good sushi bar and the famous Legal Seafood restaurant from Boston. Time usually permits a quality seafood dinner and a couple of cocktails before I head off to Gate 35. As soon as I arrive at gate 35 despair is waiting to greet me. The flight is delayed 45 minutes. The aircraft has had some mechanical issue in Charlotte. I sit down to wait it out. Approaching 45 minutes later the next announcement informs us the repair has taken longer than expected and the plane in now leaving Charlotte. The target departure time is now 9:00 pm.
The entire group in Gate 35 shakes their heads and sighs in disappointment. Approaching 9:00 the next announcement comes. There is now a series of thunderstorms somewhere between Charlotte and Washington and the plane is being held in on the ground Charlotte. You guessed it another 45 minute delay. Sadness covers us like a blanket. People are getting tired and restless when the next announcement starts with a positive statement only to raise hopes that would be later dashed. “The plane from Charlotte is in range of Reagan National, ………but the weather has stacked up other flights and air traffic has placed a flow control on all planes landing………..so the flight from Charlotte is in a holding pattern for…….45 minutes……….departure time is now estimated at 10:30 pm.”
Beaten and battered it appears this last announcement is the last. The plane arrives at Gate 35 and we are loaded in silence resignation. I find my seat and sit back for the two and one half hour flight when another announcement comes. “Sorry for the delay……….We’re in the process of restocking and refueling the aircraft………..as soon as it is complete we will be leaving.” Having broken everyone’s spirit and will, they no longer feel it important to inform you that this in another one hour delay. Eventually the plane pushes off Gate 35 sometime around 11:30 pm more than four hours late. The pilot attempts to salvage the dismal performance with another announcement “Thanks for your patience……We are asking air traffic to reroute us so we can make up some lost time……Sorry but we were not able to completely restock the plane so there is no alcohol.” It crosses my mind that I should have been home almost one hour ago and there is nothing short of traveling faster than the speed of light which would save enough time to make up for this evening. The clock strikes 1:45 am when I get home. I have now been up for almost 22 hours.
Most people do not travel enough to understand the pattern that emerged with Gate 35. Each time I have traveled through Gate 35 the same thing happened. The story would slightly change as different gate agents added their own color commentary and embellishments. Around the third flight, I got it. I would get to Gate 35 and ask about the status of the 11:30 pm flight. The gate agent would reply “Sir we do not have an 11:30 pm departure, our last flight is at 7:30 pm.” I would argue the point with her “You do have an 11:30 pm flight you call it your 7:30 pm flight because no one in their right mind would book the 11:30 pm flight. Since you would be flying an empty plane you just decided to call it a 7:30 flight, past history proves that it is really the 11:30 flight.” At this point I would get one of those sit down and shut up or you will be on the 10:30 am flight tomorrow. At 11:30 pm as the gate agent takes my ticket I would say “My god I need to get my watch fixed its running four hours fast again.”
It took me a while before I could my finger of the exact feeling the passengers of Gate 35 were experiencing. Then I realized that we were all broken toys that could not be taken in the sleigh with Santa on Christmas. What disappointment and despair knowing that you were not going on that incredible journey. We were discarded like broken toys; our heartbreak would show as we resigned ourselves to a wasted life without purpose. I began to study the psychology of despair in the new toys that they were informed that they were broken and would not be traveling with Santa.
I have to admit that the world of broken toys can be ugly and cruel. As one of the oldest broken toys having missed Christmas many times in the past, I would sit with some of the older toys who knew the routine and watch the new toys arrive. Gate 35 established its own hierarchy like a prison yard. We appointmented ourselves as the yard leaders. The new toys would look to the gate agent as the prison guards assuming that good behavior would reduce their sentence, but in reality no one was safe in the prison yard. What did we have to worry about? We knew we were on death row and nothing would same us from this four hour delay.
We would watch each new toy arrive to the check-in desk only to learn their fate. They would hurry to the counter with eager anticipation smiling what they made the gate early. Shoulders erect with innocence, hopeful eyes. Then at the announcement, they would gasp or sigh. The shoulders would slump; the eyes would turn dull, while they skulked into a corner to lick their wounds. We would gain great entertainment value at the misfortune of others. Why not, we owned the yard.
It ended up being really funny watching these people. We would sit at the edge of the seating area so you have to pass us to get to the counter. As a new toy would approach we would whisper to them “the gate agent is in a really bad mood and that one more problem she said she would delay the plane so be careful.” They would look at us like we were crazy. As they stood at the counter we would try not to giggle. Then the announcement came and they would look over at us like we were fortune tellers. We would raise our hands high and shrug, screaming “Oh man what you go and do that for? We told you.” As they walked back to a seat in Gate 35 we would howl.
Just a word of warning next Friday if you’re headed to gate 35 at Reagan National we’ll be waiting for you. It’s a place where disappointment and despair reigns. It is a place where disbelief, sadness and anger is concentrated so deeply that light and joy can not penetrate. You don’t know it yet but this is where broken toys go and you’re one.
