Mosley stepped forward to catch himself fully in the mirror, rubbing his jaw to see if it was time for a shave. Not yet. Then it was off to work for him. Another uneventful day at the airport but he must show concern lest he appear as an unmotivated employee.

He saw his friend Anton across the way speaking with an old woman, her hair turned fully white and her cane barely providing any support. Probably another one whose gotten lost. "Thank you young man." Was all her heard as she walked off towards the gate. No bag so she must be picking up someone.

"Another day another dollar eh Mosley?"

Anton repeated that same damn phrase every morning. "Yup. Gotta get that dollar." And every day Mosley had to come up with a new way of responding. He was running especially low on social patience today. "What was that woman looking for?"

"Gate number 2, all the way on the other side of the terminal. I felt kind of bad I couldn't go with her. Hope she finds it alright." A few moments later an alarm went off and a radio call came in. Apparently another celebrity thought themselves above the rest of us and is now making a scene. So much for an uneventful day. Even though he's just an idiot with an ego, they are instructed to keep to protocol, which meant one of them had to leave and the other stay. Before Mosley could volunteer, "I got it, you stay here!" Damn.

A few more people had their bags checked in before Mosley saw someone he recognized. It was the old woman from that morning, and she was waiting just inside, Gate number 8. Anton still wasn't back yet, and he's not supposed to leave that post unattended, but if he didn't go that old lady would be waiting for the rest of whatever was left of her life.

Mosley did his best jog over to her, "Ma'am? You're looking for Gate 2? Is that right?"

She turned to him, her eyes barely showing through her loose skin, she smiled, "Oh no dear, I'm just the distraction." And then she turned back to what Mosley now realized was reading the arriving flights on screen.

His heart began to hit hard. He held his radio tightly in his shaking hands, "Anton, come in." Nothing. "Anyone, what's going on with the code?" Still nothing. He ran out to the sound of police sirens and in the distance could make out a thick of black smoke on the road, like a car accident had just occurred.

"Mosley! There you are!" His boss was shouting, his face burning with color. "You don't leave your post here, ever! What the hell were you thinking? Where did you go?"

Mosley almost explained about the old lady, but knew that's not what the boss what really asking. He wasn't asking anything at all. "What happened?"

"Someone was killed, they think it was a targeted attack." He wiped his sweat with the radio antenna, "Tell me you at least saw something so I don't have to fire your ass." When Mosley didn't respond, they both knew he was done for. His boss held out his hand. "Radio and badge. Return your uniform tomorrow."

Barney straightened his tie, smoothing it as he dropped his hands to his belt, making sure his shirt was properly tucked in, his “gig line” straight—Old habit from his time in the Navy. He sized up the young man he was in charge of training.

“The job is pretty easy, really. We help people.”

“Help them with what,” young Eric asked.

“With whatever they need help with.”

“How will we know what they need? Wait for them to ask us?”

Barney smiled. He’d been through this same thing so many times before. Though, it seemed to him that the trainees were getting younger and younger every year.

“Sometimes. But most of the time, you just know. You just have to, well, here, like this pleasant looking lady here. What do you think she needs at the moment?”

Eric looked at a woman in her mid-fifties. She was standing, her left leg sort of bouncing, while she looked around. “I don’t know. Is she waiting for someone?”

“Maybe. But that’s not what she needs. Hold on one moment.”

Eric watched as Barney walked over to the woman, they exchanged pleasantries, and he pointed her toward something. They said quick goodbyes and Barney walked back.

“What did she need?”

“What does anyone need after a long journey on a crowded plane?”

Eric didn’t know what to say, so Barney let him off the hook.

“A bathroom, my man. C’mon, you could have guessed that yourself.”

“You say so.”

Barney started to walk their assigned gates. He keyed the radio clipped to his shirt. “Bin service requested for 4B.”

“Bin service?”

“Sounds better than ‘hey, someone take out the trash!’ Don’t you think?”

“I guess.”

They walked their area, Barney stopping frequently to inquire as to how someone was doing, if he could help with anything, provide directions, carry a bag, etc. Eric watched the older man do his thing.

“How long you been doing this?”

“Working this job? Oh, well, I’ve been here since ‘77, so how ever many years that is,” he said with a laugh.

“Seriously? That’s the year my dad was born.”

“Oh, now, don’t tell me that,” he said, laughing harder.

Eric smiled. The old man’s laugh was fantastic. It had a sort of high-pitched overtone laid over a deep belly sound that made it impossible not to smile and laugh along with him.

“Wow. You must really like it here.”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. I do. I love it.”

“You never thought about doing anything else?”

Barney stopped walking and looked at his watch. “Thirty-six minutes. That’s a new record.”

“What record?”

He smiled at the boy. “Every new person I hire asks me that question. For some reason, they just can’t believe that I would stay at this job for so long.”

“I mean, it is a long time.”

“Is it? Who decided that? What is it about you young people that you always need something new. Something different. You spend money you don’t need to spend to get a new phone when your old phone works just fine. You lose money buying a new car when your old car works fine, too. And don’t get me started on how you all ‘hook up’ with each other. You know I’ve been married to the same beautiful woman for almost fifty years?”

“Wow. Hey, I didn’t mean to—“

“It’s okay, son. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

They started to walk again.

“You don’t get, you know, bored?”

“Bored?! No way. You understand what this job is, son?”

“Yeah. I mean, we, like keep the area clean, help people and stuff.”

“You got big plans, dontcha, kid?”

“Yessir. I’m doing this to save up. I want to go to law school.”

“A lawyer? Well, alright. That’s a good job. Important job. Don’t you listen to what everyone says about lawyers,” Barney said, again with the infectious laugh.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“Why you want to do that, be a lawyer, all that school and all that work? What do you see in it?”

“I don’t know. I think that I can help people, you know, keep them from getting screwed by the system, all that. And I can make some good money at the same time.”

“That does sound good.” Barney waved at a toddler who smiled and waved back. “You don’t think you’ll get bored doing that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. The paperwork and all that. But probably not for a long time. And, like I said, I can make enough money to buy fun stuff in case I do get bored,” Eric said with a wink.

“Ah, yeah. Like a jet-ski, huh?” he said, with a playful elbow to Eric’s side. “Always wanted one of those.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Well, that’s the thing. I don’t get bored here. Not ever. What you see as a mundane job I see as magic. See all these people milling about? I probably won’t see ninety-nine percent of them ever again. That means that, over the course of my decades on this job, I’ve seen, talked to, and interacted with hundreds of thousands of people from all over the globe. Now, tell me, how many people can say that? How many jobs let you do that? Let you go home every night knowing that all over this beautiful world of ours there are thousands and thousands of people who, while they were here, in this small area, I made their lives slightly better? It can’t be many people do what I do. Maybe me an’ ol’ Walt Disney.”

They both laughed at that.

“Looks like Tulsa’s coming in six minutes early. We better get over there.”

They walked toward the gate in silence.

Barney put his hand on the young man’s shoulder and said, “Hey, so what do you call a lawyer with a really, really low IQ?”

“I don’t know… What?”

“Your Honor!”

November 22 dawned brisk and cloudy with a telltale gray auroa, as John Davis boarded the train to Idlewild Airport. Squeezing in among the other strap hangers, he prepped himself for the day ahead. Thanksgiving was quickly approaching so the terminal would be chock full of passengers disembarking for the holiday in New York City.

John thought of himself as a writer, so he had plenty of time to sketch characters, and journal in the dime store notebook always under his arm on the hour commute from Brooklyn to Queens.

Once he got to the airport, he quickly headed to the employee lounge and his locker. He hung up his thick winter coat and wiped his coke bottle glasses with his shirt. Sticking his paper bag lunch of baloney and cheese and an apple on top of his locker, he pulled on his thick work coat, hat and gloves. Punching his time card on the way out to the tarmac, he kept a tight grip on the notebook. No one said hello, ignoring him as he positioned himself next to the other baggage handler to unload the belly of the plane coming in from Athens.

Flight 1906 from Athens landed on time and taxied to the arrival gate, and both men ran to help unload the baggage. John needed to have the luggage neat and tidy so when the passengers stepped out of the plane, they could easily spot it. His associate simply pulled and stacked so John was constantly straightening, adjusting and aligning like a bee taking care of the queen. That only lasted while the plane was being unloaded and suddenly everything changed.

The world stopped as everyone was riveted to the television or radio listening to the horrific news: President Kennedy has been shot. There was so much chaos in the airport, that no one saw John reach for his notebook and flash a freakish, psychotic smile. He walked purposefully toward the train station, ready to execute his plan.

The police found his notebook fluttering around the subway tracks after John jumped. Bending down and grasping the binder, the detective opened up the middle. What he saw made the blood in his veins go cold. Two words repeated over and over, filling up every bit of space:

KILL JFK

I’ve been working since 5 am, checking in travelers from all over the world. They are all interesting in their own way. Today, though, I think I saw someone unique. She is an old woman, maybe in her mid 80’s. She’s kind of plain, but she’s got a certain glow. She’s carrying just one suitcase, which is small enough for a carry-on. She checked her larger baggage, which looked heavy. I’m wondering what it holds and if she could be smuggling something- some books, maybe? I overhear her say how much she is looking forward to going to Russia, of all places. Is she on a mission? She must be very brave. Or maybe she’s got friends and the luggage holds something for them. Maybe those books are forbidden! I recollect stories of Bible smugglers from reading about missionaries who risk their lives to bring Them to those who don’t have access to Bibles in their country. She could be a missionary under cover.

I sit by the gate, lethargically stamping people's passports and repeating the boring same words, "have a safe flight," with a stupid fake smile on my face. This got old real quick. As I call "next" I don't even bother looking up to see the face. The person doesn't take their passport when I hand it back to them. Hmm. I look up briefly, feeling slightly annoyed. Then freeze. The cold, merciless eyes of my ex are looking straight at me. I lean back, my heart pounding. I thought he was in prison, what was he doing here? "Adam," I blurt out, squeezing my shaking hands between my legs. "Ruth," he hisses, his eyes flashing with loathing. I blink furiously, begging my eyes not to tear up now. He had fed off of my weakness, basking in the pain he brought to my life. He was, is, a mad man. "Remember my promise?" He grins, his face twisting into a cruel smile. I shake my head violently, and stab at the red button under my desk for security. "You're not getting away this time," he laughs, the sound ugly and frosted.

I am at the arrivals gate as usual. Evenings are always the toughest part of the day in my opinion. I watch the screens as the planes land. People coming from Italy, Paris, even places like New York. There are so many crying children and cranky parents. I don’t know what to do. I am the only member of staff on tonight‘s shift. Frick. I need to deal with this all on my own.

I should have left hours ago, but my best friend said she wouldn’t be able to pick me up till later and no one else lived close enough to me. Here I was sitting watching as people arrived off the plane.

I picked up the martini I ordered from the bar and took a big gulp of it swallowing it. I watched as the security directed a old couple to where the exit was. There was a wife, pregnant who was reunited with her army officer husband and they were crying happily in the moment.

Next up was a happy family, both a boy and a girl with Mickey Mouse ears, they must have just got home from a summer vacation. Behind them was two teenagers returning from a trip of Cabo, Mexico.

Then for a moment, there didn’t seem to be any passengers arriving. I waited and wondered how long it would be until more arrived home from their trips and shocked to find the next man arriving had just got back from a business trip with his suitcase in hand and a black Tux.

“Tabitha, you ready to go,” I felt someone tap my shoulder and turned to find a stranger. I got up and walked with them towards a white light and everything started fading. I opened my eyes to find it was a dream and my alarm Clark blaring loudly.

“Last flight of the day.” Elise whispered to herself. She took a quick look at the clock. Midnight. Her stomach growled. “You’re almost there.” She thought. “Soon you can go home and order some Takeout.” She pulled at the white ascot tied around her neck. These stupid ascots, she thought. Whose idea was it to put her in an outfit this uncomfortable?

She looked at the screen to see that the plane was coming from Paris. At least she might encounter a cute French guy on her way out. “Door’s about to open.” The captain said over the intercom. Elise smoothed her hair down and looked down the hallway.

The first to emerge was a mother holding a screaming child in her left arm and a small toddler in her right. She looked quite distressed, as her attempts to ease the baby were woefully unsuccessful. Elise stepped out from behind the desk “Excuse me, ma’am, would you need-“ “I’ve got it!” Catrina, the other arrival staff on duty cut Elise off, running over to the mother.

Elise sighed. Catrina had a knack for getting out of things. Now she had to man the rest of the arrival alone. “You’ve got this, right Lis?” She plastered a smile on her face. “Yep!” She said in that peppy arrival staff voice. Catrina gave her an equally peppy smile. “Great!” She said before hurrying off with the mother.

Elise looked back at the hallway. The next group to pass through was an old couple. They were arguing about something. “Have a good evening!” Elise called after them. She was ignored, of course.

Her eyes followed the crowds of people. It was a lot of the same. Old men being wheeled out by airport staff, families with cranky children, couples arguing, and groups of young women laughing together.

The crowd thinned out as the last passengers got off of the plane, rolling carry-ons behind them. What a highly uninteresting flight, Elise thought. Not one cute French guy, no interesting quips of gossip, no weirdos. “That’s everyone” the Captain said over the intercom. “Arrival staff is free to close up and leave.”

Elise wasted no time. She struggled with the heavy door, eventually kicking it out of its locked-in place.

“Wait!” Someone called from down the corridor. Elise heard footsteps pounding against the ground. She used all her weight to stop the door from closing. A young man turned the corner, probably only a couple years older than Elise. He was wearing a black and grey flannel coat, blue jeans, and a grey T-shirt.

He ran to the door and held it for Elise, placing his muscular arm right next to her head. Elise’s breath hitched as she looked at him. The man was tall and lean like a soccer player. His eyes were a deep chocolate brown and his hair was black as night.

She awkwardly ducked under his hand to allow him to move through the door. “Thank you, miss.” The man said. Elise smiled and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “No problem” she said. “I fell asleep on the ride and I just… I’m sorry to keep everyone waiting.”

He was still panting a bit. “It’s really not a problem. This was the last flight anyway. Not like I’ve got anywhere else to be.” Elise said, packing her things up. The man smiled at her. “Let me help you. It’s the least I could do.” After some argument, Elise reluctantly gave in and let him carry one of her bags out to her car.

“Thank you, uh…” “Pierre.” The man said, holding a hand out. “And you are?” “Elise” she said, taking his hand. “bonsoir, Elise.” He said, kissing her hand. She blushed as he gave her the bag he’d been holding. He even ran to the other side of the car and opened the door for her. “Have a good night, Elise.” She smiled at the way he said her name, with a little accent. “Good night Pierre.” She said. He closed the door and waived before turning to walk back to the bus stop.

Elise couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she fished in her bag for her ID, but instead her hand enclosed around a small piece of paper. She unfolded it and turned the overhead light on.

+33-655-571-540

• Pierre

Elise’s stomach filled with butterflies. She did meet a cute French guy after all.

WILL SOMEONE SHUT THAT BABY UP?!

I only think this. I don’t say it of course - hence the capitalization- just to be clear.

I’m too much of a wimp to say that out loud and at the airline there’s a lot of crying babies and too many chances for wide eyes pa’s to take their frustrations out on me. I’m just the attendant, my salary isn’t high enough for any of that.

Instead I say, “Ma’am would you like a quieter section?” - SO YOU CAN SHUT THAT BABY UP?

Don’t forget..

Capitalization = thoughts “Quotations” = dialogue.

I’m really a nice person in person. I’ve won many monthly employee awards on customer service alone.

The lady smiles and her husband does too. “Yes, thank you. We have been trying to find a quiet space all afternoon.” NOT HARD ENOUGH.

“My pleasure follow that gentleman there”

They walk away with the gentleman that I immediately decide must be new. Big smile? Eager face? Chatting way too much and laughing like a proud donkey in a corn field.

“Hee Haw. Hee Haw. Ha-“ “Dave?” says a familiar voice right behind me. “Huh? Oh hey Larry. I was just talking to myself” Larry’s new too.

“Okay Dave, umm soo what’s the status today?”

“Well we had an extremely irritable baby earlier at our 1 o clock

At our 3 a business man and his mistress

7 is a hungover bachelorette group… tell the airplanes to double the puke bags.

And pretty sure the guy at our nine just picked a booger and put it under his seat. Oh nevermind, he just ate it”

“Dave, I was talking about the flight statuses.”

“Oh they are just fine clear skies I’m sure, let me pull it up on the map… oh wait. I no. never mind. Rough skies, hurricanes actually. And possible breakout tornados..cancellations for the the rest of the week… one sec Dave.”

I WONDER IF ITS 12 YET.

“Attention all passengers. Flights have been delayed due to inclement weather and will be canceled the rest of this week. We are so very sorry for the delay. Please make your way to our customer service desk to make alternate provisions for your week ahead.”

OH LOOK ITS 12

I look up as a massive of angry civilians head to the desk and start shouting in at least 7 different languages.

I DONT CONTROL THE WEATHER PEOPLE. AND I CERTAINLY DONT GET PAID ENOUGH.

I smile at the mob who would be more fittingly carrying pitch forks and axes.

“We’ll Dave - 12:01, I say I’m off. Take it easy.”

I don’t look back at his overwhelming face. I know Dave I know. He’ll learn

Just another day in the life of an airline, I wonder what I’m having for lunch.

The smiles beaming from faces all around, people meeting from far and wide, families reunited after years apart. All of these sights warm my heart. The heart that is impossible to warm.

I sit here day in day out, imagining what it would be like to have people who care so much: people who can’t wait to see you, people who make the effort to come and meet you. That is just a foreign concept to me, love. I have never been on the receiving end of it, always giving or watching from a distance, as I am now. I missed my one true chance at love, watching the togetherness of these people indents my regret deeper and deeper into my already frozen heart.

I was foolish back then, I took things for granted, things which I should have cherished. I let her go, I chose something unbearable over her. But the past is in the past, I already dwell on it enough. I cant avoid it, I cant fight it, I just have to accept it.

So here I am, watching the manifestations of love, and life, and all things good. Next time you think of love, dont think of physical affection, think about the arrivals gate at an airport, where true love is really shown.

• Cal :)