It is funny being in an airport at 6:49am. I sit in a teal, well-aged, hard cushioned chair that is by no means comfortable, but “sufficient” waiting to board West Jet 238. In the back of my mind I know my incredible parents are outside waiting in their car to make sure that my flight takes off. They hold my dog Eli too tightly giving him kisses and tummy rubs as they hold back their tears- but I push this out of my mind. I can’t quite handle the fact that I’m leaving my family to move to New York.
I find the people in the airport are really one of two kinds of people: Couples- perhaps singles- that are in a state of absolute bliss flying with this embellished, romanticized concept of love. And then there are people who fly in sadness, maybe to family who have just suffered a loss, maybe flying home from disaster or just moving away from home. But what is even more interesting than these two kinds of people- is that no one really knows who is who.
Travellers go about their business in airports. They check in, check their luggage, go through customs, board their plane etc etc. But when does one ever stop to inquire who is who? My favorite thing about airports are the stories. They are kind of like a television show. You get to be the mastermind and weave unimaginable- or imaginable- stories of whatever you like! Perhaps a drama for the handsome gentleman in the corner, or a comedy for the family sitting beside him, a love story for the lone girl who stares out the window..
Take for example, right now Im looking at this older couple. The gentleman is probably in his early seventies. He is wearing a leather jacket, jeans that are hemmed at the bottom- very crisp, runners with shoelaces tied in a perfect bow. His navy blue tommy hilfigger polo is the perfect addition to his outfit. His eyes look gentle, his skin show lines of laughter- of happiness- of family. His wife looks quite similar. They seem well suited. She is dressed very “proper” a lovely lavander top with lace around the neck and dark denim jeans with a matching jacket. She wears glasses that make her look wise. Her deminear seems very motherly. As they eay their Harvey burgers at 8:50am this morning I think they are getting ready for a good day. They will board the plane and get off in Newark. Go to their hotel unpack their things, get dressed and continue to dinner then a show on broadway. They will rave about it to their friends once they arrive back home and tell them all about the food they ate, the wine they had, and the amazing theatre they saw. Their favorite play will be some ballet- they look like the ballet type. The favorite food they had will be from some high class diner restaurant in SoHo. But behind closed doors, they both know that secretly they both loved the little dive they went to every morning for their breakfast that had the best eggs benedict. And their favorite show was a comedy club that they stumbled upon when Chicago tickets were all sold out. They are the couple that do all the “big” things in life, but secretly love the “little” things in life.
Today I am a traveler. Iam the girl that sits on the bench with a Starbucks short Pike’s Place coffee typing a fairy tale on her computer. When people look they notice that she has too many bags, far too many layers of clothing and all clothing that is far too oversized. Her luggage was overweight because she is too indecisive to make decisions about what to bring and what not to bring. Her indecisiveness leads to a mind that constantly wheels in circles as to what will I do? Where will I start? But she knows not to worry about what she will do or where she will go, because all the “big” things in life start with the “little” things.
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