I Love Airports

The first time I ever went to the airport was when Jason and I first started dating. We went to pick up his grandmother and her husband, Ivo, who were visiting for Christmas. This was long before TSA, so a boarding pass wasn’t required to go through security. We got to the airport early so we could watch the planes take off and land while sharing a soft pretzel and a coke. I was fascinated with watching people waiting for their loved ones at the gate. The feeling of anticipation in the air waiting for the doors to open and watching people’s faces light up when they saw their loved ones was intoxicating.

I met Grandma and Ivo for the first time at the gate and then we escorted them to baggage claim and to our car. I enjoyed this airport excursion so much, I insisted Jason take me with him to drop them off for their flight home to Florida.

For several years, every time Jason’s relatives would come into town, I’d happily accompany him to the airport to pick up or drop off. I enjoyed the airport so much, we’d sometimes go there with no reason other than to grab a soft pretzel and watch the planes and people. Even back then I was a cheap date.

The first time I flew, Jason’s sister, Julie, took me to NYC for a high school graduation present. From that first flight, I was hooked and not just because she had a friend at Delta who upgraded us to first class. Glued to the window the entire flight, I couldn’t believe I was flying. The 18-year-old in me felt sophisticated and grown up traveling to such a big city. Then my heart skipped a beat as we approached LaGuardia, with the fog lifting over Gotham. From that moment I was hooked on air travel.

I’ve flown many, many times since, but I’ve never lost the fascination with the fact that I can travel across the continent in a matter of hours. Even with the ridiculous security procedures, rude gate agents, expensive bottles of water and cramped seating, I still love air travel.

So if you ever need a travel companion, I’m your girl.