A Strange Obsession
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
I dunno why, other than I spent the majority of my childhood hopping one plane to another and seeing the world.
And that whiff that I get as I get my morning Diet Coke? It makes me feel all sorts of happy.
My Dad was a VP for the largest travel agency west of the Mississippi River, and what we did for fun was travel.
Disneyland for the day? Yes.
School clothes shopping in San Francisco? Yes please.
State reports for school? Lets go see that state up close and personal.
Country reports for school? Get your passports out.
You can do all that and more when your airfare is free. Or close to it.
I remember when I was Twenty and was working at the Agency, I was having a really difficult time making some decisions. So I did what I still do best: I ran away.
I hopped on a plane to San Diego and spent the day wandering around Old Town and then the Beach.
No one knew any different.
I was gone only for the day, but the sea air helped clear my head and I came home with some direction.
Not really.
I came home with a tan, but I sure felt better.
Another time, when my long term boyfriend broke up with me, I figured out that I could get airfare to Hong Kong for $37.00 round trip. So I convinced my cousin to come with me and these two Twenty-somethings took off for sights unknown (and my uncles house).
We had a blast. We shopped. We ate. We saw the country and lots of nasty bugs.
I escaped my troubles and life started to seem a little perkier as I watched the earth rush past me from 37,000 feet in the sky.
Distance has a way of putting perspective on things. When you are so high in the air, and can see the whole road laid out before you-- the way suddenly becomes more clear.
That's one of the major reasons I like to travel. It clears my head. Helps me regroup and see things from a much larger perspective.
That giant mountain you look at every day really isn't all that big when you can see the whole thing from 37,000 feet in the sky.
When I no longer had the travel benefits that allowed me to fly willy-nilly like Superman, I would go hang out at the airport.
I totally did.
This was long before the new TSA restrictions were in place, and I would go to the airport and walk around, watch people and even sit and do my homework. There is nothing, to me at least, that is quite as cathartic as the airport.
My second favorite pasttime is people watching and the airport is ripe for the pickings. Especially back in "the olden days" when you could actually wander to the gates. I would spy people coming and going and make up stories about them.
Long lost lovers being reuninted as she squealed in delight when he came off the plane.
Another crying as he put her on the plane and sent her off into the wild blue yonder.
Mothers weeping as they send their children off to school, or missions and Fathers Beaming as said children came home.
It really is quite inspiring to watch people at the airport-- you can get a clear sense of who the person is, by how they travel and treat others.
I seriously love the Airport and it really chapped my hide when I wasn't allowed to wander around at will. I get such a rush from just being in the building. Besides, nothing feels better than jumping on a plane and letting it take you where ever it wills. Once you have been bitten by that nasty Wanderlust God, there is no turning back.
Every morning as I get that familiar whiff, I feel that pesky Wanderlust friend of mine pushing and prodding me to come back to the fold and join them on another adventure. My will is slowly failing me, and I'm seeing a reunion with me, my old pal, the wanderlust god, and my trusty companion-- the airport-- in my near future.
Where we go, only the plane will know.
