Richard Buffum : Storied Decision on Airport Gives Rise to a Fable

“Well, it’s done!”said the hare happily.

“Yes, it’s done,” replied the tortoise sadly. “It’s all over now: more black, sticky jet fallout, more frequent noise, more falling parts, not to mention the ever present danger of crashes and deaths. It’s not a nice thing.”

“But think of the bright side: the boost in tourism, the speed in getting from one place to another, the economic importance to the industrial complex. Speed wags the world today. Stop being an old fuddy duddy. Join the jet age,” said the hare.

“Excuse me,” said the tortoise. “I’ve got to think in peace and quiet. It’s my way of retreating from the world.” He drew his head and legs into his shell.

“Yes, and I don’t approve of it,” said the hare, fidgeting. The discussion was boring him. He was eager to be on his way. It didn’t really matter where, so long as he was going someplace, fast. Sometimes he was able to run so fast that he paid no attention to the beautiful world around him. It seemed a very long time to him until the tortoise stuck out his head.

“I’ve been studying the problem,” said the tortoise. “It’s not the kind of study the Orange County Board of Supervisors order. I really had serious intentions of changing my mind. The Supervisors never did. They’d made up their minds a long time ago that John Wayne Airport should be made larger, with more flights.

“Their kind of study is politically motivated. They order a study to take the heat off them for awhile, to delay voting on a controverial issue with a predetermined outcome.”

The hare wriggled his nose disdainfully. “So what? That’s democracy for you. Studies and hearings give the people an opportunity to speak out. It makes them feel like they’ve had a voice in their government.”

“And sometimes they do have a strong influence,” said the tortoise. “It’s a wonderful thing when they do. And I think in the case of the airport, the people who didn’t want to see it expanded, mainly those living under the flight patterns, did have some temporary restraining effect. But not enough, I’m afraid.”

“And lucky they didn’t,” huffed the hare, just as another morning jet was taking off.

“I beg your pardon, I didn’t catch what you said.”

“Why beg my pardon when you’re old enough to steal it,” chortled the hare, speaking as loudly as he could.

“That’s silly. You making old jokes while in a very short time there are going to be 55 flights like that a day, instead of 41, which were horrid enough. It’s simply no joking matter: 4.1 million passengers a year compared to 2.8 million.”

“On quieter airplanes.”

“Bosh! The ear can’t distinguish the difference of a few less sound decibles at noise levels that high. Noise is noise. And it’s going to be prolonged soon. At least I’m better off than most. I can go into my shell.”

“I don’t understand you, Tortoise. It’s the sound of progress and that excites me.”

“You’ll be pleased to consider, then, that 55 flights is only the begining of your so-called progress. The square footage of the new terminal they voted to build will be 10 times larger than the present terminal. They’re not going to stop at a piddling 55 flights a day with a terminal that much larger.”

“Of course not. It would constitute fiscal irresponsibility not to use the terminal to its capacity.”

“I know. That’s why I said it’s done. We’re locked into your kind of progress now, Hare--unless . . . . That’s what I was thinking about in my quiet shell: unless in the supervisors’ over-confidence in winning the race of progress they should happen to fall asleep on the job. I seem to remember a race like that a long time ago between you and me.”