In Transit
“Train stations, airport terminals, subway stops: soulless spaces full of distracted, stressed zombies, or magical sets for fleeting, interlocking human stories?”

Ah, an easy “Daily Post” for me, for the situation is a recent experience. In Jamaica, we stay at the Royal Decameron in Runaway Bay. What a pleasure for both my husband and me. The staff bestows an aura of goodwill upon you from the very start as they treat you with “courtly” behavior. When the time comes to depart, you hate to leave this perfect paradise and the wonderful people. On top of the letdown of vacation coming to an end, you find yourself forced to waste time, as is the rule for all on-time passengers, in the airport terminal waiting area. Oh my! After being called “milady” and “mommy” by the perfect-mannered Decameron staff, I immediately dealt with typical “Philly” (Philadelphia) behavior. I sat down, and placed my bag on the seat beside me, a seat that was empty. A big, sweaty guy, threw his head back and side-stared me, “My wife is sitting there,” he said in a abrupt bark. That was fine, I didn’t want to take a seat from someone, but instead of rude behavior we both would have benefitted from a bit more of Jamaican “courtliness” in his manner. Everything in me sagged as I realized I was indeed cut-off from the magic of Jamaica before the plane even left the runway.

Let’s try to be a little more courteous, and remember we are representing our country and the area we live in.