Why I love airports

I consider myself one of a select few people who actually enjoy the airport.  Galloping across the terminals, witnessing the planes land and take off, and observing how, in a cul-de-sac of gates, one will depart for Salt Lake City, Atlanta, Boise, Dallas, and Seattle allows one to appreciate the “go forth and conquer”-ness of life that I thrive upon.  You see businessmen in prim, delicately ironed pinstripe suits awaiting a flight to New York City, or women in floppy hats and neon sundresses boarding a flight to Turks and Caicos, and you realize that they’re leaving their safe niche of a hometown to explore the world, no matter how near or far their destination is.

I equate airports with adventure.

Everyone has a purpose at the airport.  A destination, an intent, a flight to catch.  As such, the spirit of adventure is universal.



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