The line to get inside the airport was a good

two hours long at LAX. I had never seen it like that.

Clusters of people winding back outside along the

cement wall of the airport, past outdoor luggage cart

locations, and signs for one airline, and then another,

and then another. One look inside told me that, once

inside, the line turned inward and twisted around, and in

and out of metal dividers, before continuing on into the

end of the winding line that let us out at the indoor TSA

station for security. I made my way down the line outside,

along with my purse, bag, and books for the flight. Then

I settled along there in line and joined the slow crawl

forward, as the line inched ahead, and then stalled, and

inched ahead, and then stalled, a little bit at a time. This

continued, and the group around me was now about an

hour into the wait, and everyone was in different states

of being settled in for the time, as it continued to crawl

along. There were people quietly staring ahead. A few

families debating the day’s news and events among

themselves. And some people passing the time texting,

reading emails, or talking on their phones. And new

arrivals were getting to the airport, surveying the

landscape, and then with frustration, and exhaustion,

stepping back into the line. That’s when the young

woman with the clipboard approached, well ahead.

She was talking to someone on the other end of a walkie

talkie. She was wearing a bright yellow and orange vest.

Had badges hanging around her neck, and a bullhorn

tucked under her arm. I watched as she untucked the

bullhorn and started announcing something to everyone

there in line. It was too far ahead to hear yet clearly,

but she was making her way down the line. She then

approached the groups, looked like she was repeating

the announcement to everyone, explained something,

pointed ahead to another entrance of the airport, a few

words were exchanged. And then she made her way

down to the next part of the line. Until she pointed

ahead, I assumed she was either looking for someone in

line, or giving instructions for something we would

need to remember once we got farther up in line. She

spoke to the people in front of me, now getting closer,

but still out of earshot. They exchanged a few words.

Then she moved on down again, farther back into the

line. Some people were ignoring her altogether. Finally,

she was in earshot.

And here’s what I heard her say.

“There’s another security line open, just one entry up,

through there. There is currently no line and no waiting.

You’ll be through security and to your gate in between

five and ten minutes.” First, it was her saying the

announcement, as she had, through the

bullhorn, for those of us in my group to hear. Then it was

her approaching us, getting the attention of the group,

pointing ahead, and speaking the words to us personally.

The guy ahead of me looked right at her, seemed to give

her a quick scan up and down, and then didn’t even

respond to her. The other people, whether alone in line,

or in groups, looked at her, listened, and then stood there

as if she hadn’t said anything. Some looked

back at their phones. Some went back to talking to each

other. The people around me who did respond said some

version of, I’ll stick with my spot here. She was stepping

past, as she said the same thing, now in surround sound

earshot. “If you’re willing to go farther up, there is

another entrance where you can go through security to

your gate. There is another entrance. It’s just up through

there. Currently, there’s no line at the entrance ahead.

No line. And no waiting.” I looked around at everyone in

front of me, and then those who had gotten in line

behind us. No one was moving. I looked ahead and

saw there were some people walking into that entry up

ahead. But no one from the line we were in. I looked at

all the people behind me, and how far back I’d have to

get in line if something went wrong and I couldn’t get

back to my now well- worn spot in the group. I looked

ahead. And still couldn’t see into the entry that

she was telling us we could take. From where I was

standing, it just looked like two more plain glass doors.

No special signs or anything. I said out loud what I was

thinking, which was, “Why haven’t they made an

announcement, something we could all hear over the

intercom or something?” “We want to move people from

the middle and the back.” Made sense. Announce over

the intercom that anyone from the security line, we were

in, at departures, could get into another security line,

and then have everyone saying, What? Which gate?

Where do we go? Who can go? Or send someone to

physically approach people with a bull horn,

point out the entrance, see if they had questions, and

let them know which doors they’d take to get there.

“It’s not for special people with some special pass or

something?”

“Same as here. No pass.”

“Will I see it right away or is it more complicated?”

“You’ll walk in, take the escalator up. There’ll be only one

way you can keep going. You’ll see the security entrance

where you put everything into trays and then go through

TSA. And once you do that, it will

lead to your gates, just like this one.”

I turned to the guy behind me, “Any chance I can get

back in line here if this doesn’t work out?”

“Maybe,” he said with the undercurrent of what definitely

seemed like a smile. I was still trying to make sense of

why no one else was moving, but I finally

said, “Okay, I gotcha, thanks, I’m going.”

The guy with the undercurrent of the smile didn’t come

along, didn’t even ask me to wave back if it looked

good once I got up there. In fact, I didn’t see anyone else

coming along. The young woman with the clipboard

moved on down to make the announcement to the later

parts of the line. I made my way up to the other

entrance. It was just like she said. I took the escalator up.

There were a few people milling about, but it was

virtually empty. I went through TSA in about five

minutes. Went to my gate, finally got to sit for a second,

grabbed food, chatted with some friendly people.

And sat and read, and waited for them to announce

when it was time to board the plane and get in another

line. I think about that moment in line a lot, when the

young woman with the clipboard approached,

whenever someone is saying something that no one

seems to be hearing. Whether it’s a warning or an

opportunity, being announced through a bullhorn, or

warning or opportunity, approaching more quietly,

I wonder sometimes if we should be listening.

I also, from time to time, wonder if they would have

listened to someone else. Or if it had to do with what

they say about how strangely people act when clustered

in groups. Or was it that we had to physically leave our

place in line, and approach an entrance a good ways up

ahead, when we couldn’t see what was on the other side.

If what we had to do was just take one step, or two steps,

to the left or right, maybe everyone, she made the

announcement to, would have taken a few steps into

another line. But I’ll ask myself often, is this person or

event the young woman with the bullhorn that no one

seems to be listening to, letting us know she’s here to

make an announcement, that through the glass doors,

there’s another entrance. And that, if we’re just willing to

see if what she’s saying is true, we may find another way,

in and through, up ahead. ~ NP.

Written By: Nika Patrice.
Attribution: Nika Patrice

© August 15, 2023. All Rights Reserved.