There’s no denying that we, the people of Western culture, in order to form a more perfect society, establish Justice and ensure…Tranquility? The forefathers may have said tranquility but what they meant was: EVERYONE PACK AS MUCH ACTIVITY AS POSSIBLE INTO YOUR LIVES SO YOU BECOME SO FULL OF STRESS THAT YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH YOURSELVES. No wonder our nation has an inclination for over-medication and hospitalization. Instant gratification beckons every waking second of cognitive stimulation.  And thus, our society flocks to the only logical place to rid themselves of their inability to cope with their anxiety intoxication—the airport.

Besides my excessive reliance on coffee and irrational fear of cotton balls, I would consider myself to be a fairly “calm” person. This is affirmed whenever I set foot into the whirling cauldron of delayed flights and nervous breakdowns, and I know I’m in for some cheap (or with recent airline fares, not so cheap) entertainment—at the expense of others’ mental well-being, of course. I may be a frequent flyer, but that just means I am a frequent spyer.

Just last week I exercised my people-watching skills while sitting at the gate waiting for a flight to Smelterville, Idaho. Popcorn in hand, I eyed all the anxiety-ridden victims, looking for signs of clinical depression or emotional collapse. I began to think this particular airport outing might prove my pessimistic attitude for humans wrong, that I might actually be a witness of peace and monotony, of friendly smiles from fellow travelers, maybe even a few hugs, and heck, why not even a double rainbow radiating across the tarmac?
Unfortunately, any such hope was soon “shot down.” (I made sure not to mutter this to the TSA, however, for fear of subjecting myself to the dreaded, “pat down.”) After a few moments of talking to himself, a frantic man in front of me proceeded to wave his ticket in the air and yell at the gate agent.

“WHERE IS THE BATHROOM?”
“Sir, it is right around the corner across from gate B19.”
“WHERE IS THE BATHROOM?”
“Sir, there is a sign right there. It is very close.”
His eyes glossed over while his stress all but fried any remaining synaptic connections between the neurons in his brain.
“WHERE. BATHROOM. I NEED. PLANE. BIRD. TRIANGLE. FLY.” The guy sounded like a walking representation of the font, “Wingdings.”

Poor airline employees. When they signed up to be a part of this madhouse, did they realize “personal therapist” was in their job description? I carefully took three steps back to create distance between myself and the frazzled man. The agent, however, appeared unamused at the incident and nonchalantly called security. Just another day.

A week later, while checking in for a flight to Paris, I observed a tall, scrawny, nervous man with blue hair check a large box with the word “fragile” taped around it. The man proceeded to tell the agent that the box contained his “grandmother’s china” and needed to get on the plane immediately. About an hour later over the airport speaker, I heard a muffled, “Frank, your grandmother’s china needs your assistance.” I later learned the box contained a ten foot boa constrictor that began thrashing when the box was picked up. The guy wanted his snake instantly at his destination so badly that he was willing to put the lives of airport personnel at risk. Watch out, airport employees, you might be strangled by a careless man’s snake while doing your job!

Another time, I observed a seemingly collected young woman quietly sitting at the gate, fingers tapping on her iPhone screen for almost an hour. Wow she looks busy; I wonder how she is able to remain calm! Yet again, my optimism had gotten the best of me. After hearing her flight would be delayed due to weather, the woman stormed over to the gate. Infuriated that she wouldn’t make it to her business meeting, she screamed at the agent, “HOW ARE YOU GOING TO FIX THIS!?!!” Newsflash! While you may be able to instantly control your Facebook status and Instagram filters, the weather doesn’t #revolvearoundyou.

These common occurrences have me wondering if maybe my life is simply too boring. Maybe I need to give in to the “now” mentality that is stitched into our DNA through Western Culture and stress myself out more to compete with my fellow travelers. Or maybe we should return to our humbler beginnings and just be grateful that we have indoor plumbing.