There’s no point in going to the airport these days, unless that’s the only way the person will get from the airport to home. Remember when you could meet someone as they got off their flight?
I remember the first time I ever flew. We were running just a little late. They held the plane for us. Then my uncle (who drove us) stood out on the tarmac taking a picture of the entire family standing on the stairs. (The plan had stairs that extended from under its door.) The plane waited for that, too.
How times have changed.
Oh, and along with other things we’ll probably never see again, it was an Eastern Airlines plane.
That happened here until Covid. Then everything went downhill.
They don’t want to see me, anyway. At least not until they get their sea legs back under them. I don’t think I’ll see them until Sunday.