The Smoking Lounge in Terminal D

The smoking lounge in Washington, DC’s Dulles International Airport rests in an underused corner of Terminal D. Ethiopian Airlines sits adjacent. No one fights to be the first to board the next flight to eastern Africa. No babies cry. No one chatters on a cell phone. Waiting areas sit barren. The smoking lounge exists as the only sign of life.
  Glass windows enclose the room on two sides, with yellow walls (once white) on the others. The smoke hangs thick despite blasting vents. Metal chairs rust. Ashtrays linger in the corners, but rarely within reach. Tired, stressed-out men and women use coffee cup lids to flick their ashes in. Even the sprinklers have turned yellow.
  Someone had the bright idea to post pieces of metal on the walls. On one side is a button, and on the other a hole. The idea is that you press the button and stick your cigarette in the hole to light up. Federal law now prohibits bringing a lighter or matches through airport security. None of the holes work. Everyone has a lighter or matches.
  Two women in their 50s sit and smoke. They have long red fingernails and raspy voices. Their unnaturally tan skin stretches taut across their faces and yet wrinkles at the same time; like a dried piece of fruit. One of the women hates O’Hare International Airport in Chicago. They frisked her while going through security. She wouldn’t have minded if it had been a man.
The two women sit and smoke and laugh and make dirty jokes. Eventually they leave, and the room falls quiet. Few places in the world sound like the smoking lounge in Terminal D, with three dozen human beings inhaling and exhaling with insatiable pseudo-pleasure.
  A woman in her 60s sits alone and smokes thin menthol cigarettes. She wears layers of clothes in the fashion of seasoned travelers. Why pay extra baggage fees when you can simply wear half your wardrobe on the flight?
Her name is Suzanne. Suzanne lives with her husband in Albuquerque, New Mexico. She says that the government did a study of all the cities in the United States. They measured the frequency of natural disasters, average precipitation and temperature. The government decided that climate-wise, Albuquerque is the nicest place to live in America. Suzanne says that a few years ago the mayor decided not to let the television show “COPS” film in Albuquerque anymore. It gave the city a bad reputation.
  Over 20 years ago Suzanne’s son, then 23, got drunk and drove his car. He didn’t hurt anyone, but he swerved all over the road. At the time Suzanne dated an attorney, but he didn’t handle DUI cases. He recommended Suzanne and her son to the best DUI lawyer around. Suzanne called him and said, “I want my son to get the maximum sentence without going to ‘real jail.’ He deserves it.”
  The judge sentenced Suzanne’s son to 10 days in county lockup. He is in his 40s now and hasn’t had a drink since. He said he saw too many bad things while he lived in that jail, ‘real jail’ or not.
  A few weeks after the trial, Suzanne’s son’s lawyer called Suzanne and asked her on a date. They married in 1991, soon after.
  Suzanne’s husband has “the travel bug.” Together they have seen 118 countries. They even snuck into Cuba by way of Canada and Nassau. She has never seen a more depressing place. Every restaurant had the same menu.
  Suzanne’s husband watches the luggage while Suzanne sits in the smoking lounge in Terminal D. Their plane will soon leave for Madrid, where they will spend a week before traveling to Barcelona, Paris, and Amsterdam. She has seen these places before and doesn’t feel much excitement. Suzanne’s favorite place is Africa, where she went once on a photo safari. Her husband didn’t think much of it, and they have not returned.
  Suzanne has seen most of the world but not much of America. Other countries don’t have as strict laws about handicapped access as the United States does. They decided they should see the world while they can. America can wait.