I Am Ugly

I never feel uglier than when I’m at the airport.

And, no, I’m not talking about the fact that my standard travel attire involves sweatpants and rarely includes any semblance of makeup.

Or my inability to pack appropriately, thus making my trek around the concourse look about as graceful as a belly flop.

I’m talking about my attitude. Or, dare I say, my heart.

After completing my third trip to the airport in the last three weeks, I now view the experience akin to walking around with a giant mirror that reflects all of my ugly thoughts and behaviors.

It is brutal. Just ask the people who have to deal with me.

But perhaps what’s worse than my “subtle” exhaling of impatient breath or the impossible-to-disguise looks of annoyance, are the evil thoughts that dart across my mind like little devilish nymphs.

What shames me most about situations like those I find myself in at the airport – inconvenient, unfair, unfortunate, aggravating – is not the external way I behave, but rather the internal thoughts that I entertain.

Thoughts that I am better than others.

Thoughts that I should be first.

Thoughts that it is all about me.

While I rarely have outbursts of anger, fits of disgruntled complaints, or harsh words with strangers, I am extremely guilty of even uglier behavior that simmers beneath the surface.

Behavior that points shamefully to my apparent belief that I hold myself in higher esteem than I do others.

Whether it is unkind thoughts or quiet sarcastic mumblings or downright wicked daydreams (I have often pictured myself swinging my rolling luggage wildly through the lines screaming “out of my waaaayyyyy”), I find it very difficult to be at the airport with a pure conscience and a clean heart.

At least for longer than five minutes at a time.

So lately, in an effort to curb this ugliness, I have forced myself to admit the startling truth: It is not all about me.

Or even more horrifying: If left to my own devices, I will behave as though it is.

I think God must have created the airport experience to make us all acutely aware of our true colors.

And I promise, the more you confront them, the more they will begin to change. This is not to say I do not have to go through the airport muttering constantly to myself to be kind and seek ways to put others first (a la Rainman), and it is certainly not to say that I still don’t say and do things that are as ugly as a baby warthog, but the more I see my tendency for ugliness, the more forgiving I am when I see it in others.