I love airports. Perhaps not my small-city airport where all the planes depart and arrive at the same time every morning and evening, making for baggage claim chaos and a customs line that’s long and winding, but I do love me some big city airports. They’re like a city within themselves. Nay, a world within themselves, with every country and culture represented. There are bookstores and coffee shops, fashion purses and duty-free stores. There are women with tears in their eyes saying goodbye to lovers and men holding flowers as they wait for the mother of their children to return home. There are grandparents with grandchildren and best friends reuniting with best friends. And there are people sleeping on benches, dreaming of the places they’ve been and destinations unseen. More people, and memories, pass through an airport in a single day than anywhere else. It is the one place almost everyone has been to, but to which no one ever stays. The moments are fleeting but the result of those moments are always memorable and often monumental. It’s such a simple thing that is taken for granted and so often complained about but each and every visit results in a change. A change in venue. A change in perspective.

It’s the intrigue of airports that thrills me. An avid people watcher, I love to watch the comings and goings, imagining the story behind every greeting and every tale belonging to each goodbye. And I wonder if someone else is doing the same. Do I catch their eye? To them I could be anyone- a business exec heading up the London office; a famous writer heading to the next stop on her book tour; or a stranger in a new land, starting life anew. In an airport anyone can be going anywhere or no where at all and there is no real way to tell the difference. Everyone is of equal importance, everyone’s story could be equally interesting and in the blink of an eye, barring any delays, every last one of them could be gone from that spot forever.

There’s that moment, as you walk down the corridor, when the world passes before your eyes. Paris, Sydney, Kuala Lumpur. Every exit is a gateway to a far off land. Behind each ticket lies the unknown. Foreign lands, exotic places, tantalizing food and culture. I often wonder which gate I would choose if a person could go anywhere at will, if every destination on the ticker board were a menu item and the deal of the day was Lima Peru or the Vatican City. In an airport the possibilities are endless. It is the one place in all the world that leads to every other place. It’s magical. It’s mystical. And one of the best parts of every journey I’ve ever been on has taken place before I even set foot on a plane.

Kristel is a Physicist, computer programmer and blogger, writing about everything from depression to dating… and sometimes even both! She lives in Saskatchewan, Canada and can be contacted at LastGrlStanding@gmail.com

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