Airport Duty

...is what I had to do for almost ten hours today. And let me tell you what: standing in the baggage claim for that long, wearing a hot pink t-shirt and unflattering khakis (FYI, I despise khakis on women), and waiting for people was. not. fun.

At first, I was pumped. A day away from the office with Janie and another girl our age? Sweet! Being able to write off lunch at the airport Max & Erma's? Excellent! Having to wait for a bunch of women to land and then direct them to the hotel shuttle? Piece of cake! However, as usual, my excitement over a free meal overshadowed common sense, which should have been screaming, "Standing for ten hours at the airport is going to be hell!" And hell it was.

Janie and I arrived at the airport a little before 10 o'clock this morning and met Kelsey in the baggage claim area. I was the only one who hadn't brought along the most recent issues of People, US Weekly, and In Style. I wasn't bummed though--no way. I mean, no one can read three magazines at a time...they would have to share with me. And this was also great, because it meant that Janie and Kelsey knew something I didn't: we were going to have lots of free time!

As I was silently scolding myself for not bringing my little book of sudoku puzzles, I took a look at the list of women we were to meet over the course of the next nine hours. Hmm...almost 50 people. "Not bad," one half of my brain said, just as the other half stated the horribly obvious truth: "Fifty flights. How many of those will be delayed? How many drivers does this shuttle company have? How long are you going to have to stand on your feet?" I soon learned the answers to all of those nail-biting questions:

At least half.
Three.
Ten hours.

To keep it brief, because I'm freaking tired and want to go to bed, the day dragged on forever. Even lunch at Max & Erma's was marred because we had to shove our food down our throats in order to find the next person on the dreaded arrivals list. I mean, heaven forbid any of these women (most of whom were well into middle age and had undoubtedly collected their bags and located shuttles before) go ten steps from their gates without being bombarded by our pink t-shirts and deteriorating demeanors. Could I not enjoy my tortilla soup in peace? Is that too much to ask?! What if I had choked???

By 7:30pm, we had located most of the women, sent them along with the angry drivers to be transported to the hotel, and decided that we were done. A few stragglers remained, but they could either find the drivers themselves or take a damn taxi to the hotel and be reimbursed for it later. With throbbing legs, Janie and I trekked the million miles back up to my car in the short-term parking lot. Whoever said that standing was easy, screw you. It's not easy when you're standing on the hard floor of the airport, bored to tears, reveling in those small moments when you got to cross a name off the arrivals list because it meant you were one step closer to leaving.

And so, the lesson learned today was simple. Airport duty is not for the weak, nor is it for those looking for a way to play hookie away from the office. Oh no. I gladly would have spent the day there instead, where at least I could have checked my email, chatted on Gmail, and surfed the 'net. I hope you heed these words and never, ever commit to airport duty.