The Jacksonville airport made a little nervous just because it was an airport.
But I wasn’t too afraid.
It was the second stop that I was more worried about; Miami International Airport. Sights and sounds overload my senses as people are coming and going so fast it’s hard to tell which way they are headed, let alone which way I am supposed to go.
I found my way the gate C5. We had entered at D35. It was a long walk. I scanned the waiting area immediately in front of the gate for a seat. It was going to be a packed flight, I could see. Nope, nothing on that side. I scanned the area just across from the gate. I saw two empty seats and asked if one was available. The man sitting in the first of the three moved his belongings from the middle seat and motioned me to sit down. He was an American. He was an older gentleman dressed in a sports coat, dress pants, and a shirt and tie. On his head he wore some kind of hat. I couldn’t tell if it was a Vietnam Vets hat or not but it could have been. His activity varied between reading a John Grisham novel and watching people. Something told me he was a missionary. Although we never spoke at the airport in Miami, later, at the local airport in Port au Prince, I found out I was right. He is a missionary in Haiti.