To Edinburgh Airport earlier this week to meet WeeSis who is visiting for a couple of weeks. She’s here primarily to see the Mater in her new home and (though she thinks I’m kidding) I have a huge “to do” list for her, mainly around persuading said maternal ancestor to chuck some stuff out.
Anyway, having just about negotiated the airport’s ever-changing traffic and parking management conundrum I eventually made it to International Arrivals just in time to watch Expected change to On Approach, and then to Landed, then Arrived and Arrived and Arrived and Arrived … You get the gist. It took a while to clear customs, apparently.
No matter, airports though soulless, infuriating and (occasionally) exciting are at least fine places to do a bit of people-watching if you are a non-traveller. Mid-morning on a Tuesday is not exactly the busiest point of the week but there was the usual collection of ill-tempered business travellers, a few families taking advantage of the half-term holiday, and several small and slightly refreshed groups of ladies-of-a-certain-age clearly heading for a bit of late-season tanning and sangria.
My favourite, however, was a young man, perhaps in his late-twenties / early-thirties, smart-casual and there, like me, to meet somebody coming to the capital. Unlike me, he was carrying a large and quite expensive looking bunch of flowers. “Well done, that man”, I thought. It’s nice to know that the younger generation still make an effort to say to their loved ones that they are pleased to see them. (I did wonder briefly if he was in trouble, and was making a peace-offering, but he looked too happy for that).
It was only then I noticed that he was also carrying, in his other hand, a banana. A slightly strange combination of gifts, but I assumed he had some time to wait and was going to consume one of his five-a-day and thus use the time fruitfully. Not so. He simply plonks himself down in one of the few available chairs and, like me, starts doing a bit of people-watching of his own. And now I’m intrigued because I really want to see who’s going to come through those double doors and what their reaction will be.
Sadly, readers, we will never know because WeeSis suddenly makes her own entrance and life becomes all about hugs and enquiries about the flight and assurances that the other is looking well, and all that stuff.
Still … Who on earth greets a loved one at the airport with flowers and a banana? Is it a code? Might they be spies?
Was it Michael Jackson?