Here’s a post from the past, my musings on airports. I love them!
Here I am, sitting in the Minneapolis airport by myself sipping coffee.
And you know what?
I love it.
I love all airports.
Please tell me someone else out there has this strange love affair?!
It’s not that they are a glorious sampling of the world’s best cuisine.
Or that everyone is so friendly you can’t help but smile.
Or that they smell like flowers.
Nor is it the lovely security that is always easy, stress-free, fast, and never the place where you are praying it isn’t your feet you’re smelling.
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Really, it’s the possiblity that makes me love airports.
I love that here is the open door to anywhere.
I could hop on a plane and jet off to Paris and be sipping this cafe-au-lait while people watching, with the Eiffel Tower out of the corner of my eye.
I could fly over to Belize for some reefs and ruins.
I could fly to Alaska to kayak among the glaciers and whales and polar bears.
I could fly to China to sleep on the Great Wall.
Airports are symbols of the most exciting times of my life: the first time I flew, when I went to Switzerland at 15 and officially got hooked on traveling.
The first time I flew alone, to the lake in California.
The first time I visited a boy’s family, with E in Seattle.
The time I flew alone, to Peru, completely terrified of my solo adventure, clutching my English-Spanish dictionary.
The time my cousin and I flew to Southeast Asia, with months of unplanned traveling and volunteering stretching seemingly endlessly ahead of us.
The time I flew to China, with a gorgeous layover in Vancouver, an entire summer of humanitarian work ahead of me.
The time I flew from China to Brussels to meet up with E after a long summer apart, with several glorious European weeks ahead of us (one of the longest flights I remember due to pure anticipation!)
And, on our way home from Europe, when we had one last layover in Iceland, which would quickly become one of my favorite destinations I’ve ever been.
Despite the fact that I always get nervous going through security, I always end up eating junk food and getting sick, I love airports.
They represent the adventure of life, my dreams of seeing the world, and the forming of my independence. They have forced me out of my shell, warned me to keep my passport close at all times (and that leaving it in the bathroom of a Peruvian airport will only lead to bad things), helped me start seeing the great world, and showed me that where I come from deserves some love, too.
Being in an airport reminds me that life is the great world and that I’m just getting started.
Even if right now I’m just flying from Minneapolis to Denver.
I wish I could be in an airport right now!! Do you love airports, too?
Linking up with Travel Tuesday.