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Recalling warmer welcomes

By AMY GREEN
Published December 25, 2005

For the average traveler, getting through airport security now is like getting through an obstacle course. Arms full with carry-ons, jackets, purses and much else, we must ready our belongings and ourselves to be checked. We must remove our laptops from our carry-ons and our shoes, belts and jewelry. We must do it while juggling boarding passes and IDs and - most important - without holding up the line.

It takes coordination, and once we get through, there is no time for rest. We quickly must slip our shoes back on, repack our carry-ons and rush to our gates.

It is an inconvenience, but not the worst to happen to air travel since the 2001 terrorist attacks. Like most Americans, I'll readily submit to some personal discomfort for the protection of our country. But I am most disappointed that we no longer can greet our loved ones at the gate. Today, when weary travelers arrive at our destinations, we must journey still to the airport terminal where, without boarding passes granting them access to the gate, our family and friends must wait behind security.

As a child, I loved greeting family at the gate. The airport in Tampa was minutes from our house, and I was there often for my dad, who traveled a lot, and Nana, who visited every Christmas from up north. On a recent trip back to Florida, I was pleased to discover the airport's gaudy bronze sea gulls still are there, a relic of the early '80s and my childhood, still frozen in mid-flight high above the bustling terminal. I remember well walking beneath those gulls and then standing with my sister at one of the gates, watching with growing anticipation for the first sight of Dad or Nana emerging from their plane.

When she spotted us, Nana would indulge us in an animated grin and hugs and kisses, as grandmothers do with children. Today when I travel, even on business, I still strain to see my family's faces at the gate as I emerge from my plane. But today, these scenes of my childhood are mostly gone, another casualty of the war on terrorism. There is no one for me at the gate, and for those waiting in the terminal, it is impossible to know when our loved ones have arrived, because all arrivals from a single concourse stream together into the terminal.

At the airport in Nashville, Tenn., to pick up my mom for a recent visit, I was reduced to asking all arrivals where they had come from, only to learn by cell phone that Mom already was at baggage claim, had her suitcase and was ready to go. On another trip to Tampa to visit a high school friend, I was still high above when my friend was told my plane had landed. She called my cell phone for 45 minutes, puzzled by where I was.

As a child, I enjoyed watching the big planes approach the gate, and as they got close I strained to see my dad or Nana through the plane's windows. No more. Today it is impossible to know which plane on the horizon bears our loved ones. Nothing is more fun than reuniting with a loved one after a long trip. But today this fun is tempered by the confusion our new security has created.

I miss these scenes of my childhood, though I don't know of a better way of doing things. Today, air travel is mostly drudgery, a time to brace for what probably will be an unpleasant experience, like a teeth cleaning. I enjoy myself only when I see a young child, well behind security of course, proudly holding aloft a meticulously crafted sign proclaiming "Welcome home!"

Amy Green, raised in Clearwater and Sarasota, is a freelance writer in Nashville, Tenn.

[Last modified December 25, 2005, 00:03:03]