May I have your attention please. The national alert level is orange. Please report any suspicious behavior to law enforcement personnel . . . .

On a too-quiet Saturday afternoon at Little Rock's national airport, things seem normal. Abnormally normal.

It is shortly after the arrests in London, and the tie-up at Heathrow continues. Passengers are learning not to bring liquids and gels aboard.

Ditto, over-the-counter meds and lipsticks. It's the newest normal.

A knot of people forms just this side of the boarding gates. Some are waiting for arriving passengers. Others have come to see someone off. There are hugs and kisses all around. A few words of Spanish drift over the down-home, innately sane Southern conversations. A gray-haired lady passes by in a sari . . . . It's a picture of America, only a still life.

It could be the opening scene of a Hitchcock thriller starring Cary Grant and some cool, interchangeable blonde. Or maybe the beginning of "United 93." Everything seems extraordinarily ordinary. Nothing has changed, except that attention is being paid, which changes everything.

Photo I.D.? Boarding pass? Traveling on vacation or business? You won't need to show your I.D. past this point. Have a nice day.

No doubt it's just projection, but everyone seems to be more aware. The background sounds are more distinct. A vacuum moves across an already polished floor, a glass is set down on a plasticized table, passengers shuffle off their shoes as they go through the security checkpoint . . . .

No one gripes about it today.

No one is hurrying. Getting to the airport three hours ahead of takeoff may explain it. It frees up the day. We are all suddenly rich in time.

In the waiting area, someone is making the usual point: Why do they search little babies and old grandmothers instead of zeroing in on young, Muslim men with connections to Saudi Arabia or Pakistan? Yeah, why do they? Continued...