On Airports

Join me as I travel around the world in 70 days.

I have always loved airports. I love the people watching, and the way that there’s no expectation of productivity. I love the opportunity to be completely surrounded by people, without needing to engage. And I love the feeling of anticipation, the idea that in a matter of hours my life will be markedly different than it was, even just locationally.

My preference for airports is contradictory, because I struggle with transitions as a general rule. I almost always like where I am, and that can make moving hard, regardless of how much I love the place I’m going. Today, however, as I sit on an oddly tilted metal chair between a little boy watching Paw Patrol and an old couple wearing Disney World merch, I’m ready to be home.

It’s been a challenging week. An econ final that didn’t go quite as well as I hoped. A number of sad goodbyes with my favorite people. A middle of the night packing frenzy in which I realized that I have more brown cardigans than can realistically fit in one storage space. And, of course, an increasing sense of anticipation, excitement, and nerves about my upcoming trip. All this to say that when I arrived at O’Hare this morning I was feeling slightly grumpy, and planning to put my AirPods in and go mute until I stepped foot in Jersey.

As I waited in an excessive security line (why would there ever be a line for TSA Pre?!) I began to take notice of my surroundings. Directly in front of me stood a father and daughter. A few years younger than me, the teenage daughter held onto her father who seemed to be both vision and hearing impaired. She led him through the winding queue, speaking gently in his ear. I blinked back tears and thought of my own dad, currently making his famous apple crisp to celebrate my arrival home. It can be easy to see my connections as unique, to imagine that the bond between my parents and I is one of a kind, but watching these two I was reminded of the universal nature of the human experience. I thought about Love Actually, one of my favorite movies, and its final quote played in my head: “if you look for it, I’ve got a sneaky feeling that you’ll find that love actually is all around.”

I headed into Terminal 3 with fresh eyes.

At Gate K8, a family of five was headed towards Orlando, all wearing matching Make-A-Wish shirts.

At a bright blue grand piano, an old man sat down and started to play I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues. I leaned against a nearby pole and hummed along.

In the bathroom, I bumped into an acquaintance from school, heading home to North Carolina. She was with her mom, whose bright smile was identical to hers.

In line to board an earlier flight to Newark, I noticed a woman wearing a Marcel T-shirt, my favorite middle-eastern restaurant from home.

And as I sat at my gate, I eavesdropped on an Indian-American student explaining henna to an elderly stranger.

As I sat there, I was filled with a feeling of contentment. I dosed off for a moment, awaking to a woman gently touching my shoulder.

“Your bag is open honey,” she said helpfully, gesturing at my gaping backpack. But instead of returning to her seat after I thanked her, she sat next to me.

“I was just saying to my husband that you looked lonely,” she said. “Where are you headed today?”

I spend the next thirty minutes chatting with the woman, a Philadelphia native headed for Alaska, about her four grandchildren. By the end of my conversation, she was subscribed to my Substack.

I’ve been so nervous about feeling alone on my trip. And it’s true that the connections I form traveling will be drastically different than those that shape my life at home and school. More fleeting, perhaps more transactional. A bit more forced. But there will be something unique in their ephemerality.

For the first time in my life, I’ll be forced to make connections not because of a shared hometown, college, or hobby, but because of a shared human experience. In each county I visit, the locals will speak a different language than me, practice a different religion, and have different values. But like me, they will all be thinking about how best to support their loved ones, follow their passions, and enrich their lives. I hope that on the final day of my trip, I will have found that the lesson I learned today at the airport is true. When you take the time to notice, love actually is all around you.

And people say New Jersey isn’t beautiful!

This week I’m reading a book of short stories called Show Don’t Tell by Curtis Sittenfeld. It’s different than my usual style, but I highly recommend them. I’m also listening to Say You Will by Fleetwood Mac almost exclusively.