A cloud of dust rose in the distance, and I heard a mighty rumbling. "What's this?" I wondered. Deep in the pit of my gut I felt a sense of dread. Were we about to be invaded?
As the rumbling grew louder, I could begin to see that the thundering feet of thousands of individuals at a brisk pace was what was causing the racket. 'Twas a mob leaving the airport, heading to all points. 

That's the last thing I clearly recall for soon I was swept up in the maelstrom. I could hear shouts and cries. My feet were stepped on and my back and head were lashed by various pieces and protuberances of luggage. I distinctly remember the swoosh of a safety belt buckle narrowly missing my head as a frantic father stalked by, swinging a sticky car seat. 

Mommies were crying for their children to wait up or keep up or shut up while grandparents were dragged along at a pace they were uncomfortable with. 
Tiny crackers, sippy cups, and candy bar wrappers littered the ground, while Starbucks frothy drink containers, straws, gum, mints, and other food debris were stuffed into trash cans and crammed into places where trash shouldn't be stowed. Some family members were eating on the go and the smells of whatever they were eating filled an atmosphere already packed with aromas. 

Baby strollers, car seats, booster seats, crutches, wheelchairs, walkers, and even motorized carts emerged from the fog and din. People wandered about, looking this way and that, unsure of their direction while others confidently strode ahead. Lines formed at bottlenecks and grew and grew, seeking relief. Here and there a customer service person was overheard, somehow foolishly trying to contain the crowd. 

A sense of entitlement was palatable and lengths of time were being micro-measured against some mythical standard impossible to attain. Complaints were bandied about while workers processed the rabble fast as they could. 
And then suddenly the dust cleared, and all was silent. The last of the pack was seen to be exiting the scene and those working at the airport breathed a sigh of relief. But the calm was short-lived for more planes landed and the rumble rose again, along with the cloud of dust and the usual cries of the afflicted. 

Early on in this round an elderly passenger fainted and an ambulance came onto the scene. A storm then came upon the airport. Rain started to come down, considerable darkness descended, and though this cleared the dust, the storm, the flashing red strobes of the ambulance, and the presence of paramedics in baggage claim raised the drama level considerably. Traffic slowed, then began to back up. As a result, waits happened and the various families’ energy levels dropped. Daddies, their jobs being to appease and contain their charges, grew increasingly desperate and restless while Mommies, their jobs being to continuously feed and monitor their charges, found themselves at a loss until movement happened and they found themselves on the go again, fully in their element and living their purpose. "Go family! Go Team!" you could almost hear them exulting while beleaguered airport workers toiled as fast as they could, not for customer satisfaction reasons, but just to get these people out of their hair.

For there is little joy to be found in processing families. You aren't part of their tribe and never will be. While interacting with them might bring a smile or a laugh here and there it’s only for a moment because families have their own agenda and need to get on with that so 'get ‘em outta here and on their way' is every airport worker's mantra. Experienced airport workers know that there’s a minimum of gratitude coming for any heroic efforting they do on their part so they’re not overly disappointed. 

Far better it is to observe this from afar, perhaps from a slightly cracked and heavily tinted window of the limo that pulls up to the airport loading area that you duck into. "Ah yes, James (speaking to the limo driver). I see that the usual flurry of unconscious and unconscionable behavior is taking place. Whisk me to The Club, won't you, my good man? I am in need of rest and good company, not the kind that is to be found here!"
James, who has no fondness for mobs either, readily agrees as he peels away from the curb, heading for the pristine grounds and refined atmosphere The Club is situated in. "Right away, sir!" 

James happily complies because his employer is no slouch. There's a separate yet delightfully well equipped and decorated lounge area for limo drivers and best of all, families aren't allowed past The Club's gates.