The Airport Goodbye

Just like the airport hello, the airport goodbye is an art really - the art of bidding someone an adequate and expressive farewell in a public space while maintaining grace, class and composure. It starts with the awkward check-in send off, when they’re not quite leaving yet, but leaving your side long enough to check their bags, passport and ticket. By this point, they are standing at a non-conversational distance, but close enough to make eye-contact. You try to relish the finality of their physical presence in your life. You follow their movement through the line secretly hoping they’ll be hindered for having over-weight luggage, an over-booked flight or an error in the reservation – anything that might detain them longer. But they pass through with ease, and you feel yourself silently resenting the smile on their face, alluding to their excitement of reaching whatever lies at the end of their destination, also completely ignorant of the pain of your loss. They reluctantly saunter back to you to continue draining the emotional energy out of you. Leaving their carry-ons at your feet, they leave again to make the rounds. You observe years of collided paths summarized in firm handshakes and mutually understood nods, the donning of mwarmwar (Chuukese leis) and a limp hug, the hand-shake pull into a one armed hug, the male favorite bear hug with forceful slaps on the back that preserve masculinity, the “I want to shake your hand but I don’t want to let it go so I’ll devise stalling techniques such as ‘Good Luck. You have your ticket? You don’t want to forget that (awkward chuckle). You’re going to keep in touch right? Have a good flight. Enjoy the peanuts’” interface, the good luck pat on the shoulder that says “I want to, but I’m unsure whether hugging you is socially appropriate right now,” the lover’s ‘head buried in shoulder’ extended embrace, the look-away, “you mean to much to me and I can’t bring myself to say goodbye to you it’s too hard I’ll settle for a handshake” adieu, or the merciless ‘rattle your hand off’ grip.

One would think after so much keen observation and practice, you would have mastered the art. As you survey the scene, everyone else can handle the trauma of the airport good-bye with minimal permanent damage. Confident you can do it also, you stand up tall, chest inflated, shoulders back – all of the necessary steps to convince yourself this is going to be as easy and as classy as everyone makes it seem. They start walking towards you with that look in their eye that says “it’s our turn.” They get closer and closer, and instead of making a motion to reciprocate their embrace, you panic. Unable to shake the thought that this is most likely the last time you will see them again, the last time you will look at them with the motherly “you’re getting so big” gaze, the last time life in this space and time will exist like this. The pre-planned handshakes or back slaps fall to pieces as the tears well up and you crumble in their arms. You can’t think of anything constructive to say that would encapsulate what they mean to you and express your prayer for their future success. All that comes out is “sniffle….sniffle.” but somehow, that says enough. They try to let go, but you’re holding on too tight because it’s more comforting to cry into someone than to cry standing alone. Mustering up enough strength to pry your arms off their neck, they step back, pick up their bags, give you one last look and a sympathetic smile, and walk through the double doors.

The art in the airport goodbye is that, unlike most things in life, practice does not make perfect. It breaks you down little by little and makes you scrap for the strength to pull it together enough to do it again…