My daughter and I spent 6.5 hours in the Baltimore airport on the day after Christmas.
Even now, all I can say is thankyou thankyou thankyou for the children’s play area next to the observation deck. It had several climbing structures and there were various kids in similar situations to my daughter. Pick-up playdates were quickly organized and then quickly disbanded as weary parents, consulting their watches for the umpteenth time, finally got ready to leave.
One of the other ‘highlights’ of the 6.5 hour stay was the discovery of a matrix of moving ramps which transported people to and from their parked cars. One does not realize what potential for exploration a moving ramp offers until one is presented with the situation where there is absolutely nothing else to do.
Periodically we returned to the play area to see what new prospects had shown up and to try and drum up more play sessions.
Eventually the sun went down and the play area took on an other-worldy aura. The children ran and jumped in the dim light while airplanes took off and landed in the background.
At one point my daughter took a break and I read story books to her. There was a man singing softly to his newborn baby not far from us. His singing was sad and touching, with an ethereal middle-eastern tinge. The sweet, dark melodies seemed to blend well with the stories that my daughter and I were reading. For a moment I lost track of time.
When it finally seemed that we would always be living in Baltimore airport and that our lives would forever be entwined with moving ramps and fast food, we learned that our plane was on the way. We eagerly lined up to get on board, relieved to see Baltimore drift into the background as our plane sped into the night.
{ 2 } Comments