Stuck in Terminal 4

When my flight was cancelled, I got a lesson in why the way of give is so important.

I’m writing from a hotel room adjacent to Terminal 4 at Heathrow, the UK’s biggest, busiest, messiest airport. It’s been an awful, enormously frustrating day. And a sad one, too. This is because ever since I arrived at 7:15 this morning, I’ve witnessed a world-class display of incivility, rudeness and disrespect. Of pure, unbridled selfishness.

When I arrived at the gate, everything was normal. Or at least “normal” for the 21st century: blatant homosexuals; freakily dressed, body-pierced Goths; disengaged fathers; teenage girls caked in make-up and dressed like call girls; and of course, obnoxious, disobedient, disrespectful, out-of-control children. Fifty years ago, this would have constituted a nightmare. Today, it’s life at Gate 5, Terminal 4 of Heathrow—and virtually every other airport in the Western world.

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