... the tragedy at the local airport.
Images of four of the five victims have now been released (full disclosure ... this is actually being written on the 9th, but, through the magic of the blog, it's being retroactively dated for the 8th) and their (mostly) smiling faces just make it all the more heart-wrenching.
In just over a month, I'll be at that same airport, returning from a work trip, standing at a baggage claim, waiting for my luggage to make its way out on to the carousel. I'll be thinking about reuniting with my loved ones, picturing the wagging tails of the puppies and the excited whine that Casanova makes when he sees someone he hasn't seen in a week and the way that Ozzie will go toward my feet and put my sneakers in his mouth to punish them for having taken me away. I'll be thinking back on my time in Vegas, remembering that whatever happened there stayed there, as per the rules ... and I'll be planning to spend quality time with my Indiana family, who will already be here for their yearly winter visit. I'll be salivating about my annual birthday steak dinner, postponed so that they can join, and what will be the highlights of the week ahead. I'll be in a spot facing the conveyor belt so that I can grab and go, wondering if my bags will be first out -- or last out -- or worse (one out first, one out last) -- or worst (not out at all -- which has only ever happened to me once). I'll be reading some old newspapers, whatever I couldn't finish on the flight, waiting for the cruise ship sound that signals the machinery is about to start.
Or at least that's the way it would have been expected to be IF it were just the denouement of any normal flight like any other I had taken over and over again in my travels.
Instead, I expect I'll be repositioned in a back corner where I can watch everyone gather, content to wait until after I've evaluated the situation and only after I've identified places to exit quickly and/or shelter in place to grab the bags. I won't mind if the luggage goes around a few times while I perform a safety check. Most certainly, I will not have my head stuck in a newspaper, and my thoughts about loved ones and future plans will have to be displaced to the back burner by my awareness about the immediate danger in which I may or may not find myself. I'll consider it a success if I can just escape unharmed.
Such is life in modern times.
Eventually, that thought pattern will be tamped down by realizing that it's just all too random any more. That soft targets abound. That barely treated mental illness coupled with our go-go-gun society has rendered us all potential targets at any possible time. That there is no preparation plan for that kind of randomness. That living in fear isn't living. That freedom comes from being in each moment because the next moment isn't guaranteed.
Eventually I'll get there.
Just not in a month when I fly again ...
IN HONOR OF THE VICTIMS:
http://www.cnn.com/2017/01/07/us/fort-lauderdale-victims-profiles/
ESSENTIAL TRAINING FOR MODERN TIMES:
https://www.dhs.gov/active-shooter-preparedness
4% OF THE MENTALLY ILL ARE VIOLENT ... BUT OUR *SOCIETY* IS VIOLENT:
http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2016/06/untangling-gun-violence-from-mental-illness/485906/
