Welcome to The Art of Flying, our expressionistic take on the "art of the aviation experience." This is the fifth in a weekly series of commercial aviation commentaries in the form of poetry by Kambr Inc.'s Martin Kaduc. Read Martin's first poem in the series, Kleenex, here, his second work, Redmond, here, and his third entry, Spinners, here, and his most recent fourth poem, Coordinates, here.
TSA Pre, Privium, Fast Lane, Fasttrack, Access One, CLEAR you name it I am willing to pay,
to keep that dreaded airport queuing experience at bay.
I hate waiting and will look for any option to keep me in the clear,
but it’s the prospect of seeing “him” which I constantly fear.
The process is a breeze if everyone would just learn to toe the line
docs in hand, pockets empty, eyes straight ahead - everything is fine.
But then there is always that one for some reason almost always wearing blue shoes,
pockets full, bracelets, earrings, belts, heavy layer sweater and completely obtuse.
What’s he doing and why always in my lane, what the heck,
his naivete just added 55 agonizing seconds to my experience at this security check.
