Wenting Li
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When my plane descended into Toronto Pearson International Airport, I, as a newcomer, looked out the window awestruck by zillions of bright lights. It seemed that all the stars had fallen from the night sky. I could not have imagined that one day this “galaxy” would become my second home.
Now, nearly 30 years later, I work as an operational support representative at Pearson, the largest and busiest airport in Canada. I am one of the faces of Toronto that welcomes millions of air travellers from all over the world who speak dozens of languages: Toronto Pearson is called an international airport for a reason.
Each morning, it’s a long walk through the airport to my post, but my shift starts before I even arrive. On the third floor, at Departures Hall, people stop me to ask where to check in, what the aisle number is for their airline, where to drop off oversized baggage and so on. When my shift is over, I continue to answer the same questions on the walk back. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t mind helping people. I actually enjoy it, just like all the volunteers who make up Toronto Pearson’s Welcome Team.
My regular post is helping passengers through “In Transit Pre-Clearance” at Terminal 1. My colleagues and I often have a large room full of connecting passengers, who have just arrived from cities such as Sao Paulo; after a 10- to 15-hour nonstop flight, they are tired and hungry. They need coffee, breakfast and a lounge instead of confusion as they wait for their checked baggage to be processed by customs.
Emotions can run high here and the room is like a pressure cooker, especially when it is time for passengers to board their next flight to the United States. Of course, they don’t want to miss their connections. Our job is to keep passengers calm and informed. Eventually, their luggage is cleared and one by one they proceed to U.S. Customs and Border Protection, and then to their departure gates. The room becomes empty again and before next wave of passengers come in, you can do gymnastics or perform rap, if you wish.
Passengers with connecting flights are usually in a hurry. They are stressed out. The irony is this: A lot of them are travelling for pleasure and going places such as Palm Springs, West Palm Beach and Honolulu, but look at them: They are out of breath and sweating, even in a Canadian winter. Some rant, some are even in tears. They don’t seem to be having any fun at all. This is when it is time for empathy: We put ourselves in our customers’ shoes and help them as much as we can. But when a plane is leaving in 15 minutes and the door is closing, what else can we suggest but: “Run like Usain Bolt”? A few times I have run with passengers to their boarding gate. It is a race against time. Rossini’s William Tell Overture should be played.
Every day, the Welcome Team quickly finds information for passengers on the flight-schedule screen: the gate number, departure time or the flight status. We assist passengers with kiosk machines and electronic visa applications and act as interpreters. Sometimes we even get a thank-you hug. If we see the elderly, trying to catch their planes but walking at a snail’s pace, we find a wheelchair for them promptly.
Since passengers are just passing through, our interactions are brief. I say “Bom dia” to Brazilians and “Hola” to Chileans. A simple greeting in their mother tongue can guarantee a smile from a total stranger and a weary traveller. Once I pointed out snow on the glass ceiling to a young man from Bogota, who had never seen snow before. He wanted to go out and jump in it. A young woman, who was on her way to visit her family in Johannesburg, told me that she was expecting. I offered my congratulations and good luck. I often share a 108-year-old Saskatchewan man’s secret of a long, happy life (“Pick a good wife”) with elderly couples. They chuckle. Usually, the wives laugh louder. I ask the older couples, married for decades, the secret of their long marriage. Their answer is always the same: tolerance! I expressed my condolence to a man on his way to his sister’s funeral in Baltimore. I asked a couple from Deer Lake, Nfld., if they actually saw a lake and deer. “I can see a lake from my house,” the man replied. Besides deer, they saw moose, too. Another Newfoundlander from St. John’s said he could see an ocean from his lawn and showed me the photos. One cheerful and colourful lady from Aruba told me that her name meant “water of life” and that she had written a book. To all, I wish a pleasant trip, to groups off for a family wedding in Singapore, to seniors traveling to Fort Lauderdale for their Caribbean cruise, to children off to Disney World in Orlando…
The airport is not a dull place. All kinds of human emotions are on display: sad (tearful goodbyes), happy (family reunions), anxious (having a tight connection), agitated (waiting in a long line) and upset (missing a flight). Sometimes I think: No matter where we come from, what colour our eyes, hair and skin, we are all the same. We all belong to one human race. To me, Pearson Airport is simply a bustling global village. I feel very much at home.
Gu Zhenzhen lives in Toronto.