The flight back

Almost two weeks ago, I found myself in Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport waiting for a connecting flight back to Amsterdam. I entered the food court in the international terminal, and the symphony of human experience delighted me. First, it seemed like a typical airport - people rushing here and there, grabbing a bite to eat before their flights, checking departure boards, doing last minute shopping.

But then I started to notice other things. The profane racial disparity between food workers and travelers. The mix of international human beings. Eager to fulfill one last fast food fix, I stood in line at Arby's next to an incredible multi-generational family. The grandparents urgently conversed in an unknown language with their grandson, and then the teenager ordered in perfect, bored, American English. I turned around twice to confirm this conversation.

I guiltily ate my curly fries and slurped my Diet Coke surrounded by Scottish tourists with steamed vegetables and bottled water. Then I started to notice another sub-group: The US troops. In full uniform, boots tucked into their fatigues, massive backpacks supported by their muscular shoulders. They wandered through the food court, and a subtle, yet hushed, shameful silence followed them. I arrived at my gate, and realized a substantial number would be boarding the plane with me. I sat and listened to them talk about the mundane - their partners, their ultimate destination, the party they attending the evening before.

Then the crescendo hit me. All these people that I read about, argue about, theorize about - they were all around me. This was my country, and its internal struggles. The troops - they're just young guys, many sporting wedding rings, heading into oblivion. Minorities - African Americans - conspicuously absent in my Minnesota city, serving the privileged white European or American travelers heading off to their exotic destinations - with a smile and a polite word.

And then I boarded the plane to head back to Western Europe, where I continue to pretend to understand these intricacies from a great distance.