It is rare when that any of us are happy when our flights are canceled or delayed. However, last week-end I welcomed the extra hour on Concourse “C” in the Atlanta Airport.

Concourse “C” has everything I love…

1.       A newspaper stand with current NY Times and pink pages of the FT, rows of candy that you have to lean over and touch when checking out, (M&M’s and Payday bars threw themselves onto my coat’s zipper and belly begging to be consumed) salty snacks, gia-normous bottles of diet coke, and the smallest packets containing one aspirin or a Tylenol (like that’s going to help).

2.       Popeye’s fried chicken- where the happiest people work and serve, extra spicy strips, and never-ever understand why I don’t want a “side” or my butter baked biscuit.

3.       X-press Massage, where the loungers vibrate and the up-selling is unrelenting.

So here is how my hour delay went down…

Firstly, I am always quick to supply my bag. If the airplane should crash on a deserted island, I, Susan Gwaltney would have enough rations for a week. So the newsstand was and always will be my first stop, after the bathroom, that’s a given.

Secondly, never swim, run or get a massage after extra spicy chicken fingers. So, X-press Massage was next. As I walked by, I did have a funny feeling of being “chatted up”, “pimped”. The massage therapists were lined up at the doorway advertising and saying to passer-byes, “you want massage?” I went to the “head matron”, who was standing by the large treatment menu and told her that I would like a chair massage. She, being the queen of up-selling and adding-on, was clearly disappointed when I only asked for 15 minute massage. Momma Matron offered me nail serves, full massages, hair, waxing, tinting and as a last minute attempt, reminded me that for $5 extra dollars, I could do a 20 minute massage. I said yes.

The therapists and staff are very welcoming, they never ask you to sign a waiver, or if you have any illness or injury that they should be aware of, but they do ask you at least ten times, “when does your flight depart?”

Music from a Chinese Restaurant plays in the background; and I suddenly want Moo-Shoo Pork and an eggroll. There is noise, lots of noise from the concourse and inside the spa.  A slight smell of cigarette smoke creeps in, as the smoking lounge is also Concourse “C.”  Strong hands squeeze my neck and lower back, pressing into my tight shoulders and then twist into my neck.

The customary, “you have tight shoulders” is said. I say, “I know” and the usual feeling of failure and guilt hit when that is reported to me. As if I have let down human-kind.

I am done and now sit on a vibrating lounge chair, which feels like a jet taking off, I automatically look for a seatbelt.  I sit for only a minute as not to bruise or lose a filling. As I am being rolled and shaken, I see a gentleman also getting a chair massage. He is a type “A” client, a multi-tasker, with face in cradle, he is on his Blackberry. I doubt he feels guilty when his massage therapist reports that his shoulders are tight. I wanted to grab his Blackberry and throw it out onto the floor of Concourse “C” as an offering, but it must have been a combination of the twang of the Chinese Restaurant music, my relaxed shoulders and Zen his massage therapist, who clearly could give a shit, so why should I!

I paid my bill, 20 minutes= $40, put my 30lb back-pack onto my newly massaged shoulders, walked past the line-up, thanked the head matron and turned left. Next stop, oh yeah, Popeye’s Fried Chicken.

Thirdly, fried chicken, goat, cardboard, shoe, and/or handbag… really, you fry it and put Popeye’s seasoning on it, serve it with Southern hospitality, I am eating it. With yellow box in hand, I walk to my gate, look out of the window, my back to the world and open, in peace, the little yellow box. The smell of zest, front porch and farm steams out of the box. I love my crunchy greasy chicken fingers.

It’s a great flight delay on Concourse “C”~

Susan Gwaltney

Essential Spa Consulting