I spent this morning in an Orlando megachurch listening to a preacher talk about heaven on earth. As if someone felt I should be shown the alternative, I am spending the evening in the Orlando airport. If there is a place more like hell on earth, I’m having a hard time imagining it.
The terminal where I am waiting is like an overcrowded bus station. Since Orlando is home to Disneyland, it seems roughly half the people waiting for their delayed flights are under the age of 12. I usually don’t mind traveling with children, but being stuck in a waiting area with what amounts to 18 elementary school field trips so close to a child’s bed time is next to unbearable. There are children wrestling, dancing, jumping on and off the rows of torn vinyl chairs, and, above all, whining in about 20 different languages. It is a small world, after all.