Travel Infatuation
Let me start off by saying that I love planning a trip. Love it. I will even plan trips for others to a limited degree (I don’t want to be held too responsible for your trip). Do you need a discounted airfare? I am the patient searcher, finding the flight I want and then waiting,waiting, waiting, then pouncing when I see the price drop. I would be lying if I did not say I get sort of a high from this-feeling like I got a great deal, knowing I can use that saved cash for fun things on the trip itself. I live for that.
I am the trip planner of the WanderingWhy Team. I buy the tickets, I research the area to stay in, I check the weather reports, and I know the currency conversion. Sometimes I am lucky if WS even knows what the currency is. Did he just dare to ask me if we were getting a good conversion rate? Surely he jests.
I also have an intrepid love affair with airports. I know many people hate that part of travel: the security lines, the baggage fees, the jostling and waiting to get on board. Not me. Well, aside from the baggage fees, I live for that stuff. I don’t mind the security line. I have a little contest with myself to see how quickly I can load and unload my belongings into that silver bin meant to hold all my treasures. More often than not I wear flip flops to expedite the process. And my jacket? Girl, you know I took that off long ago and put it in my carry-on bag.
Airports, to me, have always been a place of emotion. Before the advent of strict security and limited gate access, my best friend and I would drive to the airport in Pittsburgh for no good reason except to people watch. We would pick a destination; sit at the gate, and watch. Watch happiness as two separated lovers were reunited. Watch sadness as two siblings hugged over a lost loved one. Watch anxiousness and excitement as a child flew alone for the first time. We were voyeurs without a ticket. Once the flights trickled down for the night, we would leave in silence, absorbing what we saw and creating stories in our head as to what happened next.
And so, I do not mind sitting at the gate, gazing at the families around me, the solo travelers, the backpackers ready to take that big step. WS knows better than to talk to me at times like that, I am too busy constructing stories in my head and absorbing the emotion of the place.
I board with the plane with hope and excitement, all the while still constructing my stories.
Once on board, there is that moment, right before you push back from the gate, that you feel the plane make a slight gentle lurch backwards. That subtle movement always makes me say in my head “here we go”. I sit back, and I enjoy my flight, no matter how long. After taking trains in India, I can fly an infinite number of hours in comfort and happiness. There are bathrooms, there are drinks, there are snacks. I am ready to go wherever this silver bullet takes me. And the moment the plane touches down on foreign soil, I am giddy with excitement (and usually lack of sleep because of said excitement).
And customs? No sir, I do not mind customs. That long line is full of anticipation for me and a chance to contemplate “what’s next”. Where can I find an ATM? How will we take public transport to our destination? (although I have already done my research, ha!) Where will we go first? What will the air smell like here? What lies outside the glass booth of the customs agent? And once I hear that double “thunk thunk” of the passport stamp, I am ready. So ready to go.
And so, as we decide where to wander next, these thoughts make the journey for me just as enjoyable as the destination. Bon Voyage!























