The smile of Brussels

JULIO MIRAVALLS | 03/23/2016
I see the photos of photos of the Zaventem airport terminal and I remember the woman. It was a few days ago.

Thirties, pretty, with nice figure. She was near the entrance to the area of baggage check-in for Iberia. She didn’t speak Spanish, we understood talking English, but she wore a badge of the company in the lapel of his blue uniform jacket.

I was with a colleague and machines which provides boarding-pass at Brussels Airport, as usual, gave war with any issue. They did not recognize a name, or not identified the name with the number of frequent-flyer card…

The woman replied smiling at the inquiry, took in his hands the paper with the identification pin, stepped up to the machine and, as usual, everything ran when it was she that got the data.

Then she opened a tape, to shorten the way to the check-in counters, entrusted us to a colleague for any pending application and said goodbye with another friendly smile.

I don’t know her name, just we exchanged some words, I don’t know anything about her. Unless she was there, doing its job exactly in that place of Brussels Airport today reduced to rubble, as the photographs shows.

I hope, ojalá (that means Allah wants it), that fateful Tuesday of the wicked, at that precise time, not to coincide with her work shift. But in this case would be another one, perhaps equally friendly, perhaps forced and dry smile, no matter, who was exactly there, in her job place, when it happened all that the pictures show.

First written in Spanish