On Airport Travel

It is a universal truth

That people hate the airport

It is the place that you go

To get to the place you actually want to be

A necessary evil en route to a destination

Where you stand in endless lines

One for tickets, one for customs

One to ensure you're not a mass murderer

And then you wait

Amongst the crush of other people waiting

And you drink overpriced coffee

With what was labelled a gourmet muffin

Then you shift in your uncomfortable chair

Trying to sleep

But the intercom is incessant

And you can feel strangers' eyes on you

All of this to secure a seat

On a metal box also filled with strangers

Who have screaming children

And domestic arguments and alcoholic tendencies

And you still haven't gotten

To the place you actually want to be.

But I love airports

They're misunderstood

Microcosmic studies of humanity

Because when people say it's the journey

And not the destination that they're in it for

The lie will expose itself

In the painted smile that covers their disgust

As they stand in the customs line

But for those like me who love the journey

We stand in line imagining all the places we'll go

The things that we can do

The opportunity afforded by the line itself.

That cold coffee and crumbly muffin

Aren't standing in your way

They're an experience unto themselves

And the strangers

Each have their own story

Stories and histories spanning the entire world

But each of these stories converges

Here, at this airport, at this time

And once you step onto that plane

That point of connection, that one moment

Is gone forever

And as wonderful as destinations are

Every time I pull a suitcase from a spinning carousel

And walk out into the sun

Under the sky of a new city

I feel a strange sense of loss

Now that the journey is done.