Wander Lust

There is a rhythm and flow to airports. My old job included significant travel. I’m generally in sync with airports and enjoy hanging out before a flight. On this trip, flying solo, I relish moving through the airports with no one to worry about but me. It’s been a while.

I like that I can sit and watch the world go by. Literally, the world, when sitting in the Amsterdam international airport. There are the classic tall blonds, as always in Amsterdam, a healthy presence of Muslims in colorful but hooded attire, and a wide variety of language as people continue with their connections around Europe. Oddly, a much lower Asian presence in Amsterdam than many other airports.

I like sitting and listening to the different boarding announcements. I think about, “would I like to go there? Have I ever been there? Where would that place rank on my list of next desired trips?” There is the romantic thought of just boarding a random plane; not the one I came for. But that is unrealistic in the post 9/11 world.

I did once start to board the wrong plane once. It was not romantic, just an error. There were two flights to Chicago at the same time, at neighboring gates. They announced, I went. I almost went to Mid-Way airport rather than O’Hare. Not that that diversion would have been exciting. But almost the wrong flight.

I wonder what international travel was like before world war 2. More trains, less flights, but no passports. At that time you really could go anywhere, anytime. Really could drop off the map and leave all known to you behind. Crazy to think about. This age of internet, almost anyone can be found, and travel between countries is limited and monitored.

For work, or my old work, I just to travel months out of the year. I remember once in our early days of our marriage, but after a couple years of working, my lovely groom and I were planning a get away. He asked if I thought I had enough miles stored up to get free tickets. I guessed, “yeah, I bet I have over 50,000 miles”. He called me later that day to confirm I had miles, >400,000 of them! Like I said I traveled months at a time.

Then there is third world and Carribeian travel. Not always equivalent, but I bundle them here due to the similarities in airport style. Often the airports are open air, but include indoor smoking, and a complete lack of signage. Those are airports you move about on instinct, never truely sure if you are in the right place. At the Amsterdam airport, like Heathrow in London, there are signs that actually tell you how far you are from your gate, “walking 11 minutes away”. I like to try and beat it by half, but Heathrow can be a work out.

This trip I’m traveling all carry-on. Which weighs a TON! Because I have all my camera gear, tripod, computer equipment, let alone a few socks and underwear. For photo journeys, only super casual wear. I know I’ll be in fields sweating and no one will care how much I stink. It is kind of liberating! I will brush my teeth daily, but as to whether I’ll wash my hair that remains to be seen. I brought the bottom of the underwear pile. It is time to find out why this underwear has made it to the bottom of the pile and if it is worthy of the flight home or should be sacrifed for some trinket found along the way.

I’m always surprised that the airlines do not weigh your carry-ons. I’m well over the limits, but as long as I don’t strain at the counters, offer big smiles, no one stops me. I love it when someone offers to get my bag down from overhead. I say, “no worries, I’ll get it, it is REALLY heavy.” To which they smile and nod at me like, ‘pathetic woman’, then grunt with their efforts. I say thanks and tottle on my way.

I love the personnel uniforms. From the airline attendants, which in Europe wear heels I wouldn’t even attempt on a date, to the badges and stripes of the pilots. But my favorite is the military personnel with machine guns. I love that. It is a serious presence, with combat boots incase the airport suddenly turns into a swamp environment. Hats as if the roof is about to rip off. But most importantly, machine guns, because they have not intent of chasing anyone, but shooting them down as they flee. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t find their presence reassuring.

So off on my adventure. Another cup of tea, another magazine, another takeoff and landing. I do like the flow of an airport.