By the window, a father holds his toddler son in his arms. “Do you see the plane?” he asks in a high-pitched voice. “It’s going to go bye-bye.”

What looks like a giant accordion attaches the end of the walkway to the door on the side of the plane. In the cockpit, two pilots are wearing headphones, looking at the dash, leaning forward, and reaching out to twist knobs and flip levers. 

The screen says we board in eight minutes. On the speakers, announcers recount the movements of players in a game of football that must be on one of the TVs that I can’t see from where I’m sitting. 

The other travelers waiting to board talk on their phones, scroll on their phones, stare at their phones. One guy in a red polo shirt stands, holds a coffee cup, switches it from his left hand to his right hand. A woman takes off her glasses and cleans them with a cloth while talking to her friend. 

Now the screen says we board in one minute. An automated robotic voice says, “We will now begin boarding …”