Dullest

Why hello, Dulles airport! Pleased to meet you! Except I can't say my first impression is all that impressive. Perhaps I'm just exhausted from enduring a flight long enough to allow me to finish Orhan Pamuk's Snow, take a long nap, and grade a dozen student papers. Perhaps I'm just a little cranky because I'm still wearing the same clothes I put on Saturday morning and it's now Sunday evening. Perhaps I'm just spoiled from the ease of navigating security in Brussels, Zurich, and Prague. For all these reasons and more, dear Dulles, I'm not finding you very friendly.

First, you're just dull. You sent me on this long labyrinthine hike through blank white corridors without making any attempt to entertain me. I'm not demanding those colorful neon lights that zoom through the tunnel in Chicago, but would it kill you to hang a mural or two? Give us something to look at while we're walking up this staircase and down that one and waiting for the shuttle to terminal A and going up this escalator and up that one. And I don't expect going through customs to be a barrel of laughs, but a little color on the white walls would make it feel less penal.

And take security--please. I know you need to make sure I'm not dangerous, but it's really not necessary to bark out orders like a drill sergeant. When you're dealing with people who have been cramped in economy-class seats for seven hours, a little gentleness wouldn't hurt. I'm tired and slow and suffering from jet lag, so if I forget to remove the Chapstick from my pocket, please don't assume I'm plotting to destroy the universe. And oh yeah, I forgot about those two Swiss coins in my pocket. Obviously the act of a desperate criminal. 

On the plus side, you've provided very nice free wireless internet access, which will keep me occupied for the three hours I'll spend awaiting my flight. Unfortunately, you've got about twice as many passengers as seats in the terminal right now, and the constant announcements begging for volunteers to give up their seats on oversold flights are a little distracting. And now my battery is nearly dead. If I give up my seat to hunt for an outlet, I may never find a seat again. If you're going to force me to give up either my chair or my internet access, it's going to be a very long evening.

So thanks, Dulles, for being there when I need you, but after tonight, it's over between us. I'm moving on.