My View: Not Death, Just Purgatory

POSTED: 11:20 am EDT October 7, 2004
UPDATED: 12:22 pm EDT October 7, 2004

I am in purgatory. The blank, expressionless faces surround me.

They seem drained of all emotion and energy. As if they've been beaten down. The fight is gone from them. Some sit in uncomfortable chairs. Others wander slowly, aimlessly. I meander from time to time with them. One time when I do, I stop to catch a glimpse of myself in a glass reflection.

I have the look too. The glassy, ghost-like look of everyone else here in purgatory, or as we call it C-O-N-C-O-U-R-S-E "G." Concourse G. Dulles.

My particular flight has been "pushed back" by nearly an hour, doubling my layover. Looking around, I know that's how it probably began for these people too. One hour, then two and on and on. The man sitting across from me hasn't moved in ten minutes. A soda dangles from one hand. I fear the worst, but he finally blinks. No, not death, Just purgatory.

It feels more like hell, really. Even though from time to time, a disembodied voice blares at us that some of the lucky ones have been given a reprieve and are now able to depart. Every so often, the voice entices with a possible salvation. Step up, trade your ticket for the next available seat and a free round trip ticket anywhere can be yours. The faces in the crowd frown. They suspect it could be a deal with the devil. No one budges.

And still more people arrive. Purgatory is a busy place.

How has it come to this? Air travel used to be a breeze. Something casual travelers actually looked forward to and even frequent flyers appeared not to mind. But not anymore. The glazed looks in purgatory tell a different tale. Concourse G is proof the system is at least, badly taxed and at worst, broken.

I talk to a few tormented souls around me. One has been waiting for hours. Another, also waiting, has had his luggage "crushed" in a baggage mishap. Another is scrambling on his cell phone to arrange a rental car on the other end. He is so late all the cars are now gone. His next call is to cancel an early morning business meeting because he’s afraid he won't make it.

And as it looks from where I sit, many of these airlines won't make it either. Not in their present state, anyway. All but a few are hemorrhaging money. Employees are being laid off. Those that remain are being paid less. Routes are cut. Planes are packed. Half empty ones are left at the gate to insure profit margins.

The airlines are caught in a trap of their own making. Many use a system of hubs and spokes that appears expensive and outdated. The price of gas is skyrocketing. Workers are highly paid and sometimes have contracts that block flexible scheduling that would better handle the unpredictable ebb and flow of airline travel peaks and valleys. They ignore all that and cut fares in hopes of bringing in more customers. That move, cuts revenue even more. The spiral continues downward and will until fewer, smarter airlines are left. By then, our choices will be fewer and likely more expensive.

I hear a happy roar from the other end of the terminal as a voice announces a plane for Allentown is now boarding. The people have been waiting for 5 hours. The only reason they have reason to cheer their flight from purgatory is that another plane…my plane…has been re-allocated to them.

I take their place in Concourse G. I glance at the big screen from time to time. Each time I do, my flight gets pushed back a few more minutes.

I take one more look at the lifeless-looking man across from me. I notice the wings on his shirt. He’s a pilot. He’s in the same…boat as I am. Only for him, purgatory truly has no end in sight.

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