by Carol Henrichs

With a personal and professional interest in airports, there was just no way to plan one more Arkansas vacation without a quick stop at MidAmerica Airport.

So, in May 2001, my husband John and I planned a quick deviation from our normal route through St. Louis. After all, Mascoutah was practically on the way.

I was curious to see what all the hubbub was about. By this time, MidAmerica was already likened to a huge white elephant grazing in the corn. And it had so often been likened to the effort to build an airport near Peotone.

I have never really believed the Peotone project should be or even would be built. But, with Illinois political shenanigans at work, who really knows? So, I was curious about what a new airport in the cornfields might look like.

MidAmerica is located in the shadow of Cahokia Mounds, the remains of an ancient city built by the Mississippian culture which flourished between 800 to 1500 A.D. The mounds, built by hauling one basketful of soil at a time, served as temples and as a base for dwellings for their rulers.

The airport is just 22 miles from Cahokia, the largest archaeological site in Illinois.

What a stark contrast. The ancient remains of an urban lifestyle that evolved with the land was the opposite of MidAmerica Airport with its steel and glass structure that stood like a monolith hovering over the land.

Once off Interstate 64, the view looked familiar. We left eastern Will County at planting time, but downstate, the corn was already nearly knee-high. It stretched about as far as they eye could see.

The airport’s control tower was visible from a way off, looking out of place among a distant line of trees.

As we got closer, we noticed there was no traffic. We expected to see the kind of hustle and bustle that is the norm at airports.

Instead, this was like a sound track from the Talking Heads’ song "The Road to Nowhere."

MidAmerica could be the subject of that tune, especially the last line, "…and the future is uncertain, give us time to work it out."

The airport glistened in the afternoon sun. It was a beautiful building, a monument to aviation.

Loudspeakers near the entrance to the terminal building reminded passengers "No parking in the red zones." That was the area for passengers to board the airport shuttle bus, which circled the parking lot, making its regular trip to and from nearby Mascoutah.

But there was no one there. It was like something out of a Stephen King novel.

The bus was empty, as was the terminal. The forever-repeating announcements meant for hoards of passengers fell upon deaf ears, no ears at all, except for ours. The entire place resembled a well-maintained ghost town.

For all the publicity, promises, and tax dollars spent, this had to be the poster child of political pork.

The place was empty, with the one exception. A ticket agent sat alone in the huge, cavernous two-story building, no doubt because she had to. She didn’t acknowledge our presence, or even look up from her terminal. We could see she was engaged in a good game of solitaire.

There was no crush of passengers rushing to catch a flight, no skycaps hustling luggage to the check-in counter, just a deafening silence.

The wide expanse of windows showed a beautiful view of the Mississippi River valley, especially from the second story, where polished handrails guided the way. The terrazo-like floors were dazzling. This was a beautiful building, a spectacle of modern construction. It is too bad there is little use for it.

I took a few pictures, and visited the ladies room, which was so pristine that brain surgery could have been performed there.

We looked around a little before making our way back to the parking lot, while the speaker continued to chant, "No parking in the red zone."

We were happy to leave MidAmerica and to continue on to our vacation destination, which happens to be where we now live. The song certainly has it right about MidAmerica. It really is on the road to nowhere. Its future is most definitely uncertain. And, they will surely need more time to work it out.