Of airports and flights and travel

There’s something about airports that I love. I get a rush when I’m at the airport. I like sitting there, watching people. A slice of life. A slice of their life. When all else stops. When you’re forced to almost doing nothing. Out of your daily routine. In a limbo of sorts. Time stops in anticipation.. in waiting for your flight. Waiting for the next event. With nothing else to do in between. That transitioning. And observing everyone else in transition.

I feel at home. I’m invisible. Walking around, looking around, observing. I’m comfortable. I can make my way around just about any airport with ease. I dont know why. Or how. I just figure it out. I’m a traveller. Maybe its just in my blood.


But then, I hate the actual flights. The compressed air makes my eyes raw and gives me a headache. I prefer sleeping through them as far as possible. Evening flights are an exception. I grab a window seat. I love the view. When you’re above the clouds. And they change colors as the sun sets. Orange then pink then grey.. before vanishing into the black sky.

Cities look so different from the air. It’s the one chance you get to actually see how the earth looks. How humans have conquered the land. Sad at times. Large patches of farm land give way to smaller, uneven patches. They in turn give way to a few scattered brick and mortar structures. With few roads. Then come the wider, outer roads. More houses. More brick and mortar. Till you see only the roads and the buildings. No land. At night they magically transform. A black canvas brought alive with shimmer, twinkling specks of yellow gold and white. Bulbs and tubelights. Roads weaving their way into the landscape lit by a trail of headlights. Weary travellers like me, maybe, heading home. Or explorers. Out on an adventure.

And then the airport. And landing. The time warp’s over. Everyone springs to action. To get their bags. To sprint out of the aircarft. As if they fear they’ll be left behind. Or that someone will steal their life. You can see the uneasiness. The pretenses. The wanting to look good, bigger, better. Impressions matter. Even in an aircraft full of strangers.


I like travelling alone. I like the freedom that it gives. That I can do anything I want, whenever I want, however I want. Decide on a whim to go for a walk, or sit at a cafe, or visit whatever. I like the sense of adventure it brings. To Explore. I dont have to coordinate with everyone, I dont have to ask a second opinion, I dont have to conform. I love the charm of it. Being on my own. Being my own person. Just me.


2 thoughts on “Of airports and flights and travel

  1. You can be a writer, who can simply pen down his thoughts, in a very nice manner :). I hope that everything’s fine at your end. I cannot help, but keep visiting your blog.

  2. Pingback: 2012 – the permission to be «

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