Truax

Last night I was forced to visit the Dane County airport two times, so I got to experience severe depression and anomie twice in one night, even though each time I was greeting arrivals that should have lifted the depressive elements from the experience instantly. I understand that Orville and Frank are working hard to improve the airport building, but sometimes it seems as if it will take the same number of years to finish this as it did to finally get Monona Terrace up and running (was it fifty years?).

True, someone read my post from early January, and the animal-safari-perpetually-50%-off bags got pushed to the back, but replacing them with bright-neon-flowered-bags, also at 50% off is hardly a move in a good direction.

And why is there nowhere to go, to sit, to stand, nowhere at all? It is just too awful to get there and find out that the flight, which just half an hour ago posted “on time” on my computer screen, is now five hours delayed (just a slight exaggeration), even though it only had 85 miles to fly from Milwaukee.

I studied the prize winning art work of 50 children whose drawings were selected for the promotion of US Savings Bonds. Lots of eagles. I opened and closed zippers of the flowered bags (this inspection service which I was so willing to provide seemed popular with no one, least of all the sales ladies who appeared personally offended by it), and I felt the yellow kiddie Wisconsin parkas for their warmth value (forget it – there’s none, but they are only $19.95, so what do you expect), I analyzed minutely the mock boarding pass on display in front of security screening (in case you don’t know what it is that you have to show to the agents waiting to inspect you, your shoes, and your travel documents) and wondered how many Mary Smiths have been offended by the overuse of their name, especially when appended to a photo of a person who looks positively MEAN (see for yourself next time you’re there), and all this took only 15 minutes.

Today I have to drop one of the visitors back at the airport. Tempting as it is just to stay in the car and wave her off, I know I’ll be in there again, this time adding the Croissant Store (closed last night) to my rounds (will there be more blueberry cheese or plain cherry ones on display?).

More than 100 commercial aircraft take off from Truax each day. You’d never guess that, standing there with a small handful of others, waiting, taking in all that gloomy, windowless quiet.