Waiting for Wichita

Gate C6 smells like greasy beef. Very few people visit Wichita Kansas unless they are going 'home.' This explains why our waiting area in the Atlanta Airport has far more of a homogeneous feel to it than say the LaGuardia or LAX, which are of course flooded with vacationers – people going to see the 'sites'. You can tell by the crew waiting at c6... that there's no 'site' on the other end of this flight.
All around me is flannel, a surprising amount of flannel – but even more camo. So there is cold waiting for us.. and work... and hunting... or at least the talk of hunting. The cluster of men around the trashcan, waiting to drop their double bacon cheese burger wrappers and large coke bottles are wearing almost fitted jeans and I could guarantee you that if one of them took off their ball cap the line on their skull would prove overly consistent wear.
Our accessories vary from the other gates as well. We have as many knitting needles among us as i-pods, handmade bags and women in Mennonite head coverings were sprinkled amidst the t-shirts and sweaters... not a suit jacket to be found. Our reading material is light and the smiles are large. Kansas is like your big brother who dropped out of school but who can still fix any car and answer any question on jeopardy while drinking a Budlight and eating Ruffles. Or like a woman who “isn't good at anything” but makes the most delicious pies without a recipe and can play any church hymn by ear. And we are comfortable with that. We were as foreign to Florida as we were in Honduras. Now we are really beginning our journey home, and now I understand why my Aunts, on both sides, transplanted for more than 30 years, to both coasts and foreign lands, still call Kansas 'home'.
Our waiting area is heavyset and calm with an occasional burst or laughter or baby cry. People in chairs chat with other people in chairs as I turn to see the other waiting rooms aflutter in one-way electronic conversations and business deals that are too important to wait through a flight. There is just nothing that urgent about Wichita.
My parents always told me that Kansas was the 'best kept secret' but I was sure the only secret around was how BAD I wanted to leave. As we return I am confident that Jude has found out that Kansas secret, and it is good enough for him. There really is nothing in Kansas... except our friends and family... and all that 'nothingness' only secures the fact that there will be plenty of time for him. Plenty of time for us. We are now boarding a half-empty flight to a half-full state... and it is my first return to see it that way.