An Airport Night Before Christmas – By Fish

’twas the night before Christmas and all through the airport

Not a passenger wasn’t whining, not even the Buddhist Monk

The airplanes were all parked at their gates with care

In hopes that their flights would be departing from there.


The flight crews were all nestled all snug in their flight decks

While visions of on time departures danced in their heads

and the gate agent in her scarf and ramper in his coveralls

had just settled their nerves after a later winter push back


When out on the apron there arose such a clatter

Passenger sprang from their seats to see what was the matter

Sit down and shut up shouted the flight attendants like a flash

Those in the A-Seats opened their window shades with a blast


The moon on the black ice covered in new fallen snow

gave the luster of midday to the belly beacons flashing below

When, what to the tower’s wondering eyes should appear

but a flight from the North Pole International Sleighport powered by eight reindeer


With a cranky pilot, so steely faced and calm

I know in a moment it must be a left seater

More rapid than a ramp crew at the end of its shift they came

and he whistled and shouted and called them by name


Now Boeing!

Now Airbus!

Now Bombardier!

Now Embraer!

Now Lockheed!

Now Tupolev!

Now Fokker!

Now Antonov!


To the top of the gate!

To the top of the terminal!

Now skids up! Skids up! Skids up all!


As impatient passengers before the door opens leap up

When they push towards the door when they see the sky

So up to the jetway they ran

With the baggage cart full of bags and the pilot too


And then in a screeching I heard on the concourse

The stamping and trampling of each person’s boot

As I drew my head and was spinning round

Down the jetway came the late connecting passengers with a bound


They were dressed in suits and jeans and Hawaiian Shirts from head to foot

and their clothes were rumpled and sweat stained from the cramped seats

messenger bags with iPads and iPhones were flung in their backs

and they looked like tourists just opening their packs


The passengers eyes twinkled, their smiles so surly

Their cheeks were like roses and their nose ran from the germs

Their foul mouths were perched up like a bow

and their hair was white from the stress not the snow


Airport police yelled that pipes were not allowed in their teeth

and the smoke encircling the old man’s head were cause for a scene

the smokers broad face was round as it hit the floor

his round belly shook like a bowlful of jelly as the police escorted him out the airport’s door


The people near Gate F11 spoke not a word as they went about their work

all filled with tweets and news and sticks each one of them acted like a jerk

and one passenger holding up their middle finger aside of their nose

they gave a node and off the bump list they went


The ramper sprang to his baggage tractor, to his team he gave a whistle

and away they roared like a heavy rolling down the runway

but I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight



Happy Flying!




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