Nothing makes you feel loved like being picked up from the airport - 24/12/23 Diary
I don't drive yet but when I do
The first time I landed in Greece and did not have my dad waiting for me at arrivals was in 2021. I flew in in a panic when my brother revealed that Dad had a brain tumour and needed an operation that could leave him paralysed or dead. Coming out of the gate, searching for a familiar face, I realised what I had taken for granted for 10 years. I felt shame for feeling sad over this minor inconvenience. Like a pre-teen who has to accept that Santa Claus will no longer bring her presents, it was her parents all along.
Nothing used to calm my nervous system like sitting in the passenger seat while my dad was driving. He had my favourite radio station saved; he’d put the seat heater on and always greet me with a chilled bottle of water because he’s his daughter’s father and knew how compulsively I needed to ship on fluids. If a man ever wants to manipulate me into getting attached to him, he couldn’t go wrong with picking me up from the airport and driving me home.
Dad can’t drive to the airport anymore; the surgery succeeded in not killing him but not in not damaging parts of his nervous system. I came home for Christmas last night, and my brother picked me up, which is almost as lovely. I still don’t have a driving license, and in my family, it is considered a sacrosanct right that you will get a lift.
When I do finally learn how to drive, I will make it my mission to drive everyone everywhere. I will always arrive a few minutes earlier when they tell me they need me so that I can scout the vicinity for a visible parking spot. I want them to find me as soon as they look for me to induce the feeling of maximum reliability. If they need more time, I won’t rush them. My dad used to pull up outside the houses of my friends when I was a teenager but would tell me to take my time; he’d say stay longer if you are having fun; I am happy out here. He’d mean it, too; he wasn’t being passive-aggressive.
I will turn the aircon on in preparation for the arrival of my loved one and will make sure I pack snacks—fruit in the summer and something warm and carby in the winter. My dad used to buy fresh rolls from our baker and fill them with whatever was leftover from dinner, steak or a pork chop, a hefty dose of mustard (his favourite condiment), a leaf of lettuce (because in our home, no meal is complete without salad) and slices of tomato that would turn the pillowy dough soggy. He’d wrap it in a tidy lunch bag with extra tissues and hand it to me as I drunkenly settled in. Who said Greek men are too macho to make a sandwich?
When I learn how to drive and pick up my loved ones, I will tell them they can pull the seat back if they want to snooze; I got this. I’ll get them where they need to be. Maybe this should be my New Year’s resolution. Get a driver’s license. Pay forward those lifts.
a lessen I too learned from my father. If a person is important, you pick them up at the airport or train station.
People who are stingy with deeds are almost as bad as people who are stingy with money.
And what I learned from my Japanese friends: when you take somebody to the airport or train station, you see them off properly. You wave until the train is out of sight.
Happy holidays!
I never hesitate when women ask for this. Feeling them relax into the bench seat of my pickup truck while they share stories about their trip — it's intoxicating. Leaving in an hour to do this tonight actually.