Airport Insecurity

Do you think of the word “reluctant” when you picture someone in a hurry?

What if reluctance shows up in all kinds of unexpected places, and not just shyness or timidity?

Those were the questions last week, as I settled into the Alaska Airlines lounge at SeaTac Airport … “Was I in a hurry because of reluctance?”

My flight to Nashville was scheduled for 5:40pm. When you live 90 minutes south of Seattle, you have two choices:

(A) You leave your house 120 minutes before departure. This guarantees that Seattle and Tacoma traffic suddenly swarms like murder hornets.

Do this and you'll arrive 120 minutes after your flight takes off, without you on board.

(B) You leave your house 180 minutes before departure. This guarantees that Seattle and Tacoma traffic suddenly cease to exist.

Do this and you'll arrive 120 minutes before your flight takes off, with nothing to do.

I’ve chosen Option "A" enough times to know it doesn’t work. So I left my house just after 2pm - a total of 220 minutes before departure.

My problem, as I discovered, could not be measured in minutes or hours. It was one of years.

I arrived at SeaTac, checked my luggage and headed for the security line. Weary of post-9/11 travel restrictions, I purchased TSA Pre-Check and the CLEAR eye scan pass, to shorten the wait and hoops they make you jump through.

But on this occasion, they weren’t funneling pre-checked passengers separately, so I ended up in the cattle herd of a generic TSA line, removing my shoes, going through the same song-and-dance, and growing irritable in the process.

Once I cleared security, I put my stuff back together and raced for my gate, as though I had only minutes to spare.

I got to my gate, looked at the clock on my phone and realized I still had two hours before they’d even board the plane.

So off I went to the Alaska Airlines lounge.

The Rush of the Reluctant

Reflecting during my lounge visit, I realized - I’d gone “back in time,” figuratively.?

I was rushing because I still believed some senior-ranking military leader was going to chew me out for not showing up super-early.

Back when I wore the uniform, I would rush to do everything, because of the “zero margin for error” mentality the Army teaches its soldiers.

In those days, I was “reluctant” to take an earful from my superiors. The Army is fond of doing things at "combat speed," so I'd tried to please them by rushing everything I did.

This went against sage advice I received from a mentor. You'd think this is obvious ... but it isn't:

"When you hurry you make mistakes."

-Andrew Magliolo

Moreover, by adopting the false reality that everything has to be done right now, I unwittingly signed an "agreement."

It was one of those internal "vows" we make, that turn the world so black-and-white through our lenses that we become unpleasant to live or work with.

Government, church and corporate bureaucracies often attract "rule-follower" personalities who operate from this mindset.

A client of mine made an astounding observation: most of this world's rules are made up. What's worse: we enforce them upon ourselves, through fear of social censure or ostracism.

Now of course, it's rude to keep people waiting, or be habitually late.

But I lacked the maturity, on rare occasions where I was late, to calmly accept the responsibility and the fallout with my military superiors.

I felt no less pressure as a civilian. In my core, I'm still operating as though there is "no mercy" - not for me, at any rate.

My irrational hustle through SeaTac Airport confirmed it: I am reluctant to rely on grace and favor, even when I'm doing the right thing. This is not good.

Epilogue: Nashville Airport

Four days later, I was scheduled to fly back from Nashville Airport, with a departure time of 7:30 AM.

I decided to push the limit, and set my alarm for 5:30 AM.

That might have been a mistake. There was no traffic, but there was an airport shuttle journey I hadn't factored into the equation.

It didn't matter. I was staying in a hotel with a roommate from my mastermind group, and his alarm went off at 4:30 AM.

Gingerly, I loaded my suitcase, descended to the lobby, and walked with unhurried grace to the shuttle van.

When they dropped me at the airport, I walked casually to the baggage check-in and handed my suitcase over.

Then I sauntered through the TSA Pre-check Line (the short one, without having to remove my shoes). I strolled from there to my gate ... and went gift shopping for my bride.

I sat down and read for a while, just soaking in the pleasantries of an unhurried travel day.

And right on time, I boarded my flight back ... and said "goodbye" to another habit whose time had come.