Based on True Events

 

On the carpeted area at gate 23, a small child played with his toy truck.  My initial thought was of the horrendous number of germs that kid must be picking up from the filthy carpet.  On the other hand, he wasn’t fussing, crying or pestering anyone, so no one cared.

Without the winter storm that had been predicted, arrivals and departures were all on time.  It seemed the usual amount of hassle for an airport.  I had some time to kill before my flight to Chicago, so I headed over to the snack bar and bought a bagel and black coffee.  By the time I returned to my seat, I noticed everyone at gate 23 had boarded.  This whole area was now much quieter.  The airline lady working the counter shut her computer down and then disappeared through the same door everyone else had gone through to board the plane.

I spread out my little tissue paper on the seat next to me and set my bagel down while I pried the lid from my coffee.  As I looked around for a trash receptacle to toss the plastic lid away, I noticed the small child was sound asleep on the carpet, his little truck tucked in his arms.  I couldn’t believe this.  Somehow his parents had boarded the plane, completely forgetting about the little guy laying just below the row of chairs.

I thought about running across to the door that led to the plane and start banging on it, but by now I’m sure the door to the plane was closed and the ramp had been pulled away.  There would be nobody to hear me pounding.  I looked up at the ceiling for one of those security cameras.  Surely, we were being watched.  We’re always being watched. Some TSA people must be watching me on their monitor.  I spotted one and began waving my arms and jumping up and down.  Anyone seeing this behavior would come to investigate.

Come to think of it, where was everyone else?  I haven’t seen any custodial people, no other passengers waiting for the Chicago flight.  How could it be that I was all alone?  I mean, except for the sleeping kid under the seats.  I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and called the main number of the airport.  After several automated transfers, I reached a customer service representative named Betty.  I tried to explain that I was calling from inside the airport.  I was currently at gate 23 and the people who just boarded that flight had somehow left their small child behind.  The kid was presently sleeping under the row of seats.

Betty apparently had security on the line as I was explaining everything, because suddenly a swarm TSA people, and airport security personnel had surrounded me and one of them was telling me to put my phone down.  As I slowly lowered my phone, I pointed with my other hand to the kid under the seats.

Just then, the door that everyone had gone through to board the plane flew open, and the mother of the young boy ran hysterically into the area.  As one of the officers handed the child to her, still asleep, mind you, he said, “He might fit in the overhead.”

Only a couple of us chuckled.  Then, as quick as they all appeared, they were all gone.  I was standing there alone.  I looked across the waiting area at my coffee and bagel, still siting where I had left them.

I looked up at the security camera in the ceiling and waved,

 “You’re welcome.”