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On my way to Oklahoma this morning, I had a two hour layover in Chicago. Though I know many who become very agitated at the thought of a layover, no matter how brief, such things don't bother me much. Today's airports are as much shopping malls as travel gateways and I always come prepared.
I sauntered easily to my gate, stopping in at Starbucks for some coffee and a newsstand for a copy of the Financial Times. When I arrived, I took a seat began reading my paper.
The desk at my gate was a double desk placed between two jetbridge doors. On one side, there was a woman handling the administration of the boarding process. The other side was empty. An airline employee who was dressed to indicate that he worked outside worked his way up to the empty desk and began using the computer.
Nothing unusual about that; I've seen such things many times. But once he was done with the computer, he picked up the microphone and addressed us.
"Ladies and gentlemen, passengers waiting for flight suchandsuch, may I have your attention. American Airlines would like to wish each and every one of you a very merry Christmas, and this one's for you."
The woman at the desk beside him began to shrink a little. She covered her eyes and stood with her back to the man.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes and when he opened his mouth again he actually began to sing "I'll be home for Christmas" into the microphone. He had a lovely voice and his a capella version of the Christmas standard was soulful and haunting. When he finished, there was a smattering of polite applause from around the waiting area.
He bowed deeply and drank in the adulation. "Oh, you liked that, huh?" he asked. "Well, then here's another."
He started snapping his fingers and started in on his version of "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year." This one was bright and upbeat and cheezy as all hell. The children started clapping their hands and dancing in the aisles. Travelers late for their planes ran by the gate, and though they never stopped running, they craned their necks around to try and find the source of the music. I shifted uncomfortably as he entered the third verse as I could feel him losing his audience.
When he was finally done, there was another smattering of applause and another deep bow. He replaced the microphone and wove a complicated path through the crowd, to afford greater opportunity for praise, before he finally disappeared into the throng of holiday travelers.
I can honestly say, I've never seen anything quite like it.
Posted at 12:41 p.m.
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