This is how you survive the airport: Arrive early.
It islet me show you.
This post originally appeared onMedium.
Arrive early and move through the airport like the Dalai Lama.
You are in no rush.
All obstacles are taken in stride, patiently, with a smile.
Approach the nearly empty check-in counter.
Suddenly you are always able to get an exit row or bulkhead seat.
Suddenly, sure, they can slip you into Business.
This is what happens when there is no one behind you in line to check in.
Move then to security.
Fear not the nonsensical theater.
The half-gaze of those supposedly looking for murderers, jihadists.
Transformerswas CRAP, one yells.
Fear not the bottle checks, dreaded liquid checks.
Sorry, sir, 3.2 oz, finger wag, we cannot abide, checks.
Fear none of this because the line is nearly empty.
The rush yet to hit.
You know, sir, these machines are safe now.
I know, but that’s what you told me last year with the old machines.
You know, sir, you get more radiation on the flight.
Oh, do I?
Well, then, I better be sure to cut it down any chance I get.
Take deep breaths as they yell or whisper the words into the air.
Much likeapps, there is no sense in opt-out delegation.
You feel no stress.
You are the Dalai Lama.
Just a bit farther.
Back of the hands on sensitive areas.
Most sensitive part of the hands on the most sensitive areas?
You don’t know if this makes you any more comfortable.
Pat-downs sometimes fast, like gibberish.
Anyone with explosives hidden about their testicles, below their giant breasts, would have made it through.
Extra long, uncomfortably long right buttocks check.
Time is on your side.
Alright sir, no bomb residue, free to go, thank you.
Three hours or more until flight.
You find a bathroom.
Your gait is soft, you pad gently, float across the carpeted terminal.
You are in no hurry.
You are the Dalai Lama.
Urinate with a hitherto unknown calm.
So much time to spare.
You’vesurvived the deceptive gauntletsbetween you and the plane.
You have three hours.
Look for the healthiest possible food.
Does such a thing exist?
It does, surprisingly.
Not always, but often enough.
Finding it requires patience.
Make note of its location.
The next task is the most difficult step.
You are looking for the CNN-free zone.
The blare-free, drone-free zone.
The zone without the talking heads.
You’re looking for the small corner of rationality in a world of nonstop tickers.
Plug in your laptop.
Smile to your uniformed comrades.
They ignore you or give you disparaging looks.
Do the work you would have done at home.
Your flight leaves in hours.
Eat the healthy food.
This is how you survive the plane:
You will balk.
You will say, I cannot do that.
But you must, I say.
This trick I give to you gratis: the mask.
Don’t run away.
Don’t mean it’s comfortable.
People will stare at the masked you.
Concerned American women will ask if you’re OK.
Your British seat mate will shift uncomfortably.
Simply lean over and offer him one, a mask.
Remember, you are calm.
You are the Dalai Lama.
You have been Doing Work for hours while others worried their way through check-in and security.
Smile (they’ll see it in your eyes even if your mouth is covered).
Always carry two masks for this purpose.
You are a missionary of the Church of Mask.
Confidently spread your microclimate knowledge of personal humidity.
Deep vein thrombosis really is a thing.
Chillon your laptop that plays midwestern thunderstorms through your noise-canceling headphones atop your earplugs.
Do the work that thrives on web connection disconnection.
Write an article about surviving air travel.
Then wrap around your face a neoprene eye mask that looks like a bra for a small monkey.
It places no pressure upon your eyes and creates a pitch-black seal.
You are on a plane but are not.
You could be anywhere.
You are possibly the most insufferable traveler ever.
You float and smile because you are the Dalai Lama.
This is how you survive air travel.
Let’s Fly| Medium
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