I Love Airports

I love airports. No, Really. I love airports. I even get excited passing BY an airport. Even when I'm stuck in traffic on the Grand Central passing by LGA, I get a little twinge of excitement! Where's everybody going? What's everybody doing? And when is MY next trip going to be? But the best part is when I'm in the airport going on my very own journey. I love getting to he airport super early. I have no problem going to the Hudson Newsstand and picking up some silly magazine, stopping at the Starbucks for a decaf Mocha with soy milk or maybe a caramel apple cider sans the whip. I find my little place, a seat somewhere near my gate and just chill. It's really rather relaxing. I mean, there's nothing else I can or have to do at that very moment. It's almost like I'm forced to relax, which when I'm at home, is very difficult to do! I'm always finding something that has to get done. And although I'm surrounded by a multitude of complete strangers, I still feel like this is valuable "me" time.

I love watching all the people. I love secretly making fun of some of the people (in my inner voice of course, or at least low whispers with Vic.) I once saw a person waiting to board a plane who wore a spiked metal collar and other metal accoutrements all over his outfit and sneakers. I wished I had been around to see him walk through the metal detector. I still wondered how they could allow him on a plane at all. Other times, I watch women who are dressed to the nines. They have on spike-heeled boots that look like they were bought right off the runway (no pun intended) with uncomfortably-looking tight jeans, or sometimes they wear stilettos with skirts. I wonder how on earth they will be comfortable on the plane. I wonder why they'd actually opt to be uncomfortable on a plane ride. No one's really impressed with how well people are dressed on a plane, at least I'm not. This is of course different from men and women in business suits who are obviously flying right to a professional meeting without an opportunity to change. I see families dressed as though they're going out for an evening at the country club. the husband, (Biff) is wearing beige slacks, a Chaps sweater with a light blue, striped collared shirt underneath. The wife, (Muffy) pushing the double-wide stroller while carrying two oversized, designer bags is dressed in what appears to be a sun dress made for a morning jaunt on a yacht. The kids, well, they're miniature versions of Biff and Muffy.

I love looking at all the boards by each gate, reading all the different destinations, wondering if I'll ever go there. I wonder what each place is like-if I've never been. I imagine different trips I could take. I imagine what would happen if I just decided to get onto another plane to a completely different destination than my own ('cause sometimes I wonder if they really check those boarding passes carefully when when you're in the boarding line)

I'm intrigued when I hear people's names being announced over the intercom for final boarding. Why aren't they at the gate? Did they get held up in traffic? I always leave so much extra time to allow for traffic. Why didn't they? What happened to them?

I don't even mind waiting for my luggage once I've disembarked. Everyone rushes to the luggage belt as if their bags will spontaneously combust if they're not right there, leaning over the belt, "Is my bag first??" "Is that mine coming around the bend??" I know mine will come eventually. I just find a nice open area at the end of the belt and wait patiently, trying to contain the excitement about my trip.

I know not all trips to the airport can be this enjoyable or entertaining. I know not all people goign to the airport are going for pleasurable reasons. But for me, generally speaking, I love airports...Except of course when I'm there for my return flight back to reality!