Seattle 2023

Going, Going, Back, Back to Cali, Cali

I had the worst Airport experience of my life at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. They should be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. I love Seattle. It is one of my homes away from home; along with SF/Oakland, DC, and adees abeba. I flew there-and-back from LA in 2004, 2014, and 2015, and twice from the Legendary North Dakota in 2016. About a week ago was my sixth time, and first time from Ontario International Airport in the Inland Empire. The way there has always been smooth. The worst experience every was on the way back.

I had never missed a flight, of my own accord. Once as a kid, my baba and I were in Germany on a layover to Ethiopia and the airline was at fault for a delay of several hours. Other than that, I had never missed a flight. In 2023, in the year of our Lord, things change. Blame it on the Pandemic.

As a go-to a posteriori principle, I arrive 2 hours before departure time for domestic travel, and 3 hours before departure time for international travel. I thought this was foolproof, and in fact, friends and family have chided me not for being too risky but for being too risk-averse! Alas, this was no Black Swan event, but it was a Gray Swan. Who could have predicted this?

Having heard too many unreliable utterings as to why things have changed, I can only relay that the general theme is that after being cooped up in and bound to their homes and locales like corn and soy fed caged cocks and hens, for a couple of miserable years, the good people of Seattle have been eager to escape the city for a bit. Especially, during Summer. Especially, on Mondays.

I got to the airport 2 hours before departure time, as always. I had a Somali shuttle driver who was born in mogadishu, Somalia who knew Somali but not Amharic but whose father is from jijiga, Ethiopia and knows Somali and Amharic. He taught me the word retalee - okay, and confirmed that they use the Arabic maselama or Italian ciao for goodbye. I don’t meet many Somalis in LA, although I am sure we have some. Someone leave a comment if you know many in LA. I was misled by two Somali Airport staff.

As I lined up for the line closest to the entrance of my airline, I was told there would be an excessive wait of 50 minutes, because they only had one TSA agent checking papers. I was rerouted to a couple different lines about 10-15 minutes walking away that went down a set of stairs and all the way outside. I waited in that redirected line for 2.5 hours. I had the discipline to follow orders and not exit the line after being bored and annoyed. But I never get too bored, as that is a sign of a lack of intelligence. There is always something to do. There is always something to read. If nothing else, pray. Maybe even make prayer a first resort rather than a last resort, a hail mary even.

I missed my flight. The guy next to me in line was there 3 hours before departure and he missed his flight too. I had to head to the airline desk at my gate, which of course was unmanned. I was redirected this time by a sign that sent me another 20 minutes walking away. By the way, there were a couple of tram rides in between that I neglected to mention. Upon finally arriving to the help desk of my airline, I communicated my issue exasperatingly but calmly. It was common. It took me an hour in that line, and it only looked longer after I was done. They comped me another flight for two days later, but did not cover my room and board. It was the airport’s fault, and not theirs. They also told me going forward to arrive 4 hours before departure time. Reasonable.

Lest you call me a Debbie Downer, as in Scripture, there is always an upside. I was squeezed between an old white man and a middle-aged white woman for seating. All three of us are teachers. What are the odds? Maybe it’s because we all have Summers off? Is there a trait openness we share that is connected with love of travel? I have less love of travel these days, but I am well-traveled. This trip was half-business half-pleasure, as I was a groomsman in an Orthodox tewahido holy matrimony.

This silver lining, which took place two days later when I finally caught a flight out, was a kairos for Christ. “A time when conditions are right for the accomplishment of a crucial action; the opportune and decisive moment” (Wordnik). When I tell you not to debate religion, I don’t leave you defenseless. I equip you with practical examples that you can easily apply to your life instead.

When I was a Lyft ridesharer, I had a 5 Star rating on over 3,000 rides. A seemingly impossible task. I attribute this to three things: I played classical music on the radio for my guests which all but the Friday night and Saturday night shifts overwhelmingly approved of, I’m a pretty nigga, and I left the riders alone who wanted to be left alone (often signaling this with earphones in) and I spoke with those riders who sought small talk and rich conversations.

The passenger on the plane to my right, the woman, had her earphones in and was watching a film on her phone. We spoke briefly at the end, when exiting the plane. The passenger on my left, the man, had no earphones out, and engaged me in topographical conversation from the jump.

Mt. Rainier

Mt. Adams

Unpictured is Mt. St. Helens, which got us started talking about saints, and then down the rabbit hole we went for the whole flight. He’s a generally Calvinist Presbyterian, who is far from dogmatic when it comes to TULIP (thank God). More importantly, he had questions about Somalia, South Sudan, Sudan, Ethiopia, and Eritrea, and he studies Biblical Hebrew and Biblical Greek with his church fellowship. In this way, he reminds me of the Ephesus School Network and the Orthodox Center for the Advancement of Biblical Studies. I can’t say much about Old Greek, but we had a great time typing consonantal Hebrew on my phone and playing with words and turns of phrases we know. That’s the attitude of Deuteronomy 6, “you shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up.”

A similar occurence happened about a year and a half ago, on an island just off the coast of San Diego. I was dressed in my neTela (white shawl), and using the urinal, when a stranger approached me. Don’t try this at home, kids. He asked me what occasion me and the white-clad Eritrean Orthodox tewahido Christians I was with were dressed for. I had an apologia for the hope that is inside of me. I got to share Afroasiatic Christianity with him, and tell him details about our celebrations and high holidays. The key point is that he was genuinely curious, and I was able to followthrough with an answer or two or three that satiated his appetite for knowledge of the Other.

Have you ever had a kairos for Christ? Did you seize the moment? Or let it slip through your Ethiopian-spiced clarified butter-fingers?