London Heathrow Ledger

No Tate Modern for me, sorry. I blame London Heathrow International airport. I spent nearly 2 of my 6 layover hours standing in queue for passport control, finally leaving the airport only to find that were simply no eastbound trains leaving from the Acton Town stop or the orange line transfer on the Underground. (Map, but it won't help you any, trust me.) Faced with the option of circumnavigating London on the stop-plentiful purple line or actually catching my flight, I turned back, paid $45.68 (£7) for fish-and-chips, and resumed my place in the ungodly passport queue.

But more London unpleasantness on my return flight (a two-hour delay) rewarded me with a fairly awesome scene. At any U.S. international airport, arriving passengers are ushered through two separate security gates: one for non-U.S. nationals, and one for travelers who wear pajamas to fly. While waiting in the relatively short passport line, I noticed a trooper changing channels on the overhead TVs that show you what documents you need, how not to be a terrorist, etc. I was hoping he'd put on the Mavs/Suns game I saw listed in the paper (go Mavs!), but I'd forgotten that it was time for the Awards.

So here's a study in continents. On the American side of the passport divide—which works very well for my purposes; it was nice of the FAA to set this up so metaphorically—a few people set down their bags as most started to watch the show. But the other side of the room devolved. People fell completely out of line/queue/order. Luggage was abandoned, along with children and the elderly. National and ethnic conflicts, buried for the purposes of exchanging in the public sphere, erupted to the surface; recriminations flew as erstwhile fellow travelers clawed at one another for the best vantage. People even began to exhibit the characteristics of their more brutal forebears. Polite Scandanavians—turned Viking! I spotted an ancient Assyrian in the mix! At least 8% of the crowd were—Ghengis Khan! The French . . . continued to surrender.

There were screams, not muted but really energetic, and a lot of movement until a trooper finally settled people down. Maybe the Oscars represent something deeply American for people more excited about their arrival into Dulles than I was at the time, but that explanation feels condescending. I don't know, but it was quite a scene. Final analysis: We control our resources wisely, we can extend our lease on this hyperpower gig.