One of my jobs is an airport volunteer and it has to be one of the greatest, most interesting jobs in the world for a writer. For anyone, really.
People of all shapes, sizes, colours and creeds go by, all conspiring to make my job as a writer easier.
I love to watch the people waiting for arriving passengers. Full of expectancy and hope. And when they come through those arrival doors, the tears and hugs are wonderful to behold.
Some passengers, who can barely speak English, have arranged to be met by people they don't know. Such as the young Saudi Arabian language student who could say only "my family" in English. Of course I didn't understand his language and half expected a great entourage of Saudi sheikhs to come breezing through the doors, robes flying. Then he showed me a letter, which he had printed from the internet, thus baring his soul to me. Of course, he didn't understand a word of it, but it helped me to quell his concerns.
His "family" turned out to be the family with whom he would be staying, his host family. They were running late and I managed to convey to him that he stay by me until they arrived. His face showed total gratitude that he could do that. Finally the family arrived, all smiles, and recognised him immediately, I suppose from a photograph. The wife gave him a hug, and the young student left with them, thanking me, I presume, profusely. Another happy camper safely delivered.
But the ideas for stories are endless. If writers can use any of my airport stories, they are welcome to help themselves. I have enough ideas to keep me going from here to Domesday.
I will be posting another next week, so don't forget to tune in to see what other tidbits might tickle your fancy.