I love that feeling. The last day of work before the next adventure. The trip to the airport, the only concern being the location of a few bucks, a boarding pass and my passport. Always concerned that there is something illegal, according to some fine print, somewhere in my bag. The exact moment that all my luggage is checked in, the complete release from responsibility, so rare in the lives we lead, immediately washes away the stresses of life and the trivial stresses of the workplace. There is no place more free than an airport. Knowing that whatever the destination, it’s something new. No matter how much I think I may know, the one certainty is the unexpected. But is that not why we do it?
Then we wait, often for hours, wait for the journey to begin, for the flight to board. Flight delays.
Time zones clash, cultures become entwined and confused. A foreign family, all wide awake and hysterical beside a lone sleeping lady. The rushing man, pushing through a crowd of relaxed youth smuggling beers out of the pub. Lines everywhere, people pulling, pushing and dragging bags suitable for drum kits. At all times , watchful eyes scanning the masses for anything suspicious. Not a care in the world.
Boarding call. A moment of panic. A located passport.
A last minute book purchase, a puzzle, a means of entertainment and then the walk to the plane. Air currents fly through the small square corridor leading to the plane door and the flight attendant takes my boarding pass pointing me to my seat. People squeeze politely through and around each other passing bags along and jamming them as quickly as possible in to the overhead compartments. Slowly everyone takes there seats. How long until the destination? Where will the next plane land?
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