Waiting at the gate

I’m sitting by gate B12 in Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. Behind me, a man is slumped over a chair, snoring gently. I can’t see his face because of the way he is bent over his chair. A white wire extends from his elbow into the wall. It’s almost as if he went to plug in his phone charger and then fell asleep. Perhaps he himself is charging, because I cannot see a phone anywhere.

Last time we travelled through this airport, Julie and I were caught in a queue for so long at passport control that we actually missed our flight time. The plane, mercifully, waited for us.

This time we got up extra early, reaching the boulangerie moments before it opened at 6:30am for a breakfast of pastries and earl grey to be consumed on the métro.

We arrive at Charles de Gaulle just after 7:30am – we had just left the apartment at this time on our last visit. Today’s flight is still hours away, but the sting of queuing for an hour and a half (if you add both security and passport control) is still fresh in our memories.

Security is a breeze. We both remember to take our electronics out of our bag and aren’t worrying about the legalities of a lump of beaufort cheese this time around. I even get a smile and a “bonne journée !” from the man standing by the metal detector. Cheerful people at airports are always a blessing. It’s amazing what a smile can do to ease travel stress.

Naturally, the expected queue at passport control isn’t there. In fact, there are only two people in front of me, as opposed to the 200 last time. We stroll on through.

And now we wait at the gate. I don’t suspect our gate will open for another hour. I find peace in the fact that I don’t need to do anything for a while. No running through the airport like last time. No anger or frustration. No sweating and panting at the gate, praying that they will let us through. Boredom is my friend. Boredom is a sign that life is going well.

See you next time.