Waiting For Check-In

A lot of people dislike airports. However, a lot of people like them. I belong to the latter. I am in love with the airport atmosphere, no matter what kind of airport it is. And, not that it's my sole purpose but, you can people watch. It's one of those ultimate people-watching spots.

Maybe it's the natural high I get from the knowledge that I'm going far away, preceeding the massive high I'll feel from the change of scenery I'm going to have. Or may be due to the olfactory signature of an airport that triggers memories, emotions, chemicals, hormones. Maybe it's from the overall on-the-go feel and slightly tragic vibe from all the boredom, anxiety, and financial rants - why the fuck am I paying huge sums of money to see some urban jungle? Walk through wide green expanses that I have in my own country? Eat foreign food cooked by a foreign person in a foreign way with othe foreign blahs? After a few minutes, it's just the same as every other food you eat: A digested pulp inside your stomach.

I would have to stick to describing this airport atmosphere I speak of as sublime, because I can't really describe it. You have to be there to understand. Even writing about it from memory is not enough. (I'll make sure to write when I get in one again.) But let me give it a try again. Being in an airport feels like after watching Lost In Translation, Fight Club, Amelie, Love Me If You Dare, or whatever favourite movie. And being surrounded by a bunch of some-persons add to it too.

This atmosphere is definitely created by the mix of people of various backgrounds and purposes. You have backpackers, wandering travellers; business men, who're almost always there; overseas workers; families; students; old people on vacation; tour groups looking forward to a not-so-fun breath-by-breath schedule; people moving to another country; noisy children; rich kids with a stubborn cloud of air around them; photographers and other jet-setting professionals that are not businessmen that you'd stare at for some seconds and wish you had their job. I could go on and on.

Somehow, you just know why these people are there sitting down, sipping coffee, fussing over documents, sleeping. There's a sort of vulnerability that lets you peek into another person's soul. (Is there something in airports that makes travellers transparent?) And yet, you're strangers to each other. There's both anonimity and a degree of intimacy. I don't know who you are but I know you're a free spirit, wide-eyed with numerous sensory overloads you've just encountered albeit running low on energy.

There's the happy traveller. The anxious passenger. The guy who can't stop looking around for suspicious characters. The woman who keeps on talking on a phone. The teenager who's still punching on her mobile's keypad. The jetlagged traveller. The couple heading towards the mile-high club lounge. Those who are still sleepy. The bored people. Those dreading what's at the end of the flight they're about to board. Et cetera. I wish I could go on and on.

But there's a binding factor, something that unites all of them. They're all looking forward to something. Whether it's ending the whole trip and getting back home, getting back to real life, or crossing oceans and invisible political boundaries.

The whole airport bumming experience, it's just as worth your attention as the flying experience. It's like watching a Rhythms of the Jungle program in Disneyland. It's like one of those little detours in life, surreal in its own right.