There have only been a few times in my life when I’ve been able to drop someone off or pick someone up at the airport. I don’t usually have access to a car, and that isn’t usually a problem: there have been shuttles, subways, cabs, other friends with cars. And maybe this is why it’s now one of my favorite things to do.
It feels so simply loving. “Call me if there are any problems.”
I read a book recently where all the main character wanted was to be picked up at the airport with flowers. Unfortunately at MSP the driver is more likely to creep up to the baggage claim doors in a car outside, with the cops yelling at us to move along, keep it moving!; it’s not the best time for a flower hand-off. Maybe if you flew in from somewhere far away, like the Ivory Coast, or Athens, I would pay ten dollars to park, just so that I could be standing there when you came down the escalators, chin-deep in impatiens, forget-me-nots.