You know the one.

The feeling of hundreds of people passing by – from all around the world – speaking different languages, eating McDonald’s, sipping coffee, saying goodbye to friends and family.

That one place where it’s a constant rush of people, a sea of excitement and avid suitcase-dodging.

That feeling of “fuck yeah, I’m the one travelling”. And you wave like a queen from beyond the barriers.

Going through the departure gates, as one of the “chosen” ones.

Or when you’re seeing your friends or family off on their adventures. But you don’t mind that it’s not you that’s leaving today, ‘cause you love the hustle, bustle and excitement of the airport.

Being amongst it all.

The airport represents possibilities. It encourages imagination and conversations of “where I’d love to go next”.

It’s the one place where it’s socially acceptable to be sloppily dressed in fat pants and oversized hoodies and carrying a pillow under one arm – at any time of the day or night.

The place where it’s always socially acceptable to eat crappy food at 5am.

Frantically checking that you’ve packed your phone charger, or your passport for the hundredth time. Checking the departure’s table for your ‘check-in now’ sign for the thousandth time.

That place where it’s a mission to find the correct parking lot, and then find a park within the right parking lot – but that’s okay and you’re totally stress-free, cause you’re at the airport and that makes you a cool cat 😉 (unless you’re running late… and then you’re stuffed).

Lining up to go through customs and security, trying not to make awkward eye contact with the guy beyond the metal detector for fear of looking dodgy (even when you have nothing to hide) … But you look dodgy anyway for not making eye contact.

Impatiently waiting to board the plane; but no matter how far down the plane your seat may be – or whether you’re in cattle class or business class – we all forget that we all take off at the same time.

There’s an energy unlike anything else at the airport. Sometimes thought of as the “in-between”, but really it’s where it all begins.

It’s the point where all the best adventures begin. And the point where adventures have ended, when you’ve arrived after a long flight back, relieved and ready to be driven back home.

There’s no feeling quite like being at the airport.

 

This blog post (or could I say poem?? ) was inspired after I came home from saying goodbye to one of my friends, who is moving to Europe for a few years.