Less than a week ago I stepped into the Richmond International Airport. As always, I marveled at how few people were there, how quickly the lines moved, and how easy it was to get to my gate.
I grew up on the North Shore of Chicago, meaning that O'Hare was my home airport. At the time that I lived in Chicago, O'Hare was the world's busiest airport in terms of takeoffs and landings. I was used to getting to the airport two hours in advance and still feeling rushed for time. In Richmond on the other hand, I breezed into the airport an hour in advance and still had 45 minutes to sit and wait.
Today, I returned to Richmond and to the Richmond International Airport with a slightly less rosy disposition. After being delayed in Savannah, missing my connection in Atlanta and barely making it on a standby flight hours later, I returned to Richmond exhausted and irritated. The only saving grace was that because I live in Richmond, my bag was in my hand five minutes after getting to baggage claim.
Thank God for smaller airports. I never realized before that time in an airport didn't have to be ulcer producing.
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