Like any typical teenager, my heart is plagued with a hard case of wanderlust.
The airport is basically the connection to every destination, every home, every hotel, every place in the world. It’s like ultimate six degrees of separation, except for places instead of people.
My favorite thing about airports, other than the obvious traveling aspect, is the people watching. After getting through security and exercising as much freedom as possible by controlling my own boarding pass and ID (honestly my parents tend to freak out the minute something goes wrong so I try to take care of these types of situations), I like nothing more than plugging my phone up to a charging station, turning the volume up on Ed Sheeran’s newest album, and just watching. I see so many people: people in love, people fighting, people alone, people in pain, people at the peak of happiness, people so used to the magic of traveling that it’s no more than a nuisance and people so in awe of the fact that they were about to go somewhere new.
As such, I like getting to the airport early and just walking through all the shops or grabbing a coffee or trying to figure out people’s life stories from a single glance.
Which is exactly what I’m doing now, actually. I’m going to California for the weekend for my uncle’s wedding. I’m quite excited.
Today was a whirlwind of packing and doing homework at 5 in the morning, going to mentorship and getting food in the middle of the school day (and having to do something I never thought would do considering I’m not in an ABC family drama), and then dissecting a sheep heart. Suffice to say, I’m leaving one storm for a whole other one.
Until then, I’m going to enjoy one of my favorite places: the end and beginning of every journey I’ll ever make (at least the ones over large distances)
(Also can I just say how proud I am of the fact that I’ve done this everyday since January? I’m so impressed with myself.)