:|[ Something About Airplanes ]|:
So much to say about this holiday season, but I'll be selective.
Four plane rides in 9 days. Two things really struck me in my travel process. One is that airports are somehow one of the loneliest places on the face of the earth, especially when you feel like you're going from one to the next without any real direction. From checking in to claiming baggage, airports are depressing. Sure, they can be pure bliss when someone you love is there to pick you up or drop you off, but when there is no one there, you really feel the impact. I guess I feel it doubly so, having spent the last two years in and out of airports. I must have flown somewhere between 30 and 40 flights, if not more, in the last 2 years. And most of them alone. I think its taken its toll on me, because lately I've caught myself fantasizing when I reach an airport. No, not the main stream overly romanticized idea that I'm going to have someone running through the airport to tell me that they love me and want me to stay before I disappear to Europe, or the other typical fantasy that someone will be there to surprise me with flowers and open arms when I arrive. I gave up on those a long time ago, after seeing them in a movie for about the zillionth time. I have really strange, twisted little daydreams, sort of like Edward Norton in Fight Club. Yes, I have at least once imagined that my plane would crash, and have not been bothered by the thought. Maybe when you fly enough you come to terms with the idea that one day, its going to happen, and there is nothing you can do about it. "On a long enough timeline, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero." Most things aren't that dark though. Like, when checking in my baggage, I sometimes have the urge to put my wrist out, and check myself into the cargo area. Or to put myself on the conveyer belt in order to get x-rayed. Or my favorite fantasy, which involves running through the metal detectors and having all of the airport security chase after me, just to see those assholes break a sweat for nothing. I know, I'm twisted.
So what was the other thing that really stuck out to me? Well, that I don't mind the loneliness of airports. Or airplanes. In fact, I rather enjoy it. Ok, that may be a stretch, but still, there is something about the loneliness of an airport that I almost crave. It makes me so melancholy to be sitting there alone, knowing that I will fly alone, eat my "single serving" while staring out the window, then arrive to an airport empty of anyone for me, go to the baggage claim alone (where older men always seem to take pity on me and help me with my bags), then find the nearest tram or taxi to get where I am going. I wouldn't call this process empowering or anything stupid and feminist like that, but it is rather grounding. I live my life constantly surrounded with friends and family, leaving me feeling rather isolated when I am alone. But something about traveling alone is a breath of cold fresh air, making me feel empty yet more like an individual than anything else. " What you are feeling is premature enlightenment" . Something about savoring the fact that you don't have to be happy to be content, don't need to be surrounded by people. Yes, sitting in an airport feeling alone was somehow therapeutic for me. Being normal was never my thing, no matter how good I may be at faking it.
An album by one of my favorite artists is called Something About Airplanes. Funny how I now have my own meaning for that one, like all of a suddenly the album title makes sense to me.
Well, maybe later I will get to my actual trip, what I did and where I went. Or maybe I won’t.
December's chill comes late, the days get darker and we wait for this direness to pass.
There are piles on the floor of artifacts from dresser drawers, and i'll help you pack.
Four plane rides in 9 days. Two things really struck me in my travel process. One is that airports are somehow one of the loneliest places on the face of the earth, especially when you feel like you're going from one to the next without any real direction. From checking in to claiming baggage, airports are depressing. Sure, they can be pure bliss when someone you love is there to pick you up or drop you off, but when there is no one there, you really feel the impact. I guess I feel it doubly so, having spent the last two years in and out of airports. I must have flown somewhere between 30 and 40 flights, if not more, in the last 2 years. And most of them alone. I think its taken its toll on me, because lately I've caught myself fantasizing when I reach an airport. No, not the main stream overly romanticized idea that I'm going to have someone running through the airport to tell me that they love me and want me to stay before I disappear to Europe, or the other typical fantasy that someone will be there to surprise me with flowers and open arms when I arrive. I gave up on those a long time ago, after seeing them in a movie for about the zillionth time. I have really strange, twisted little daydreams, sort of like Edward Norton in Fight Club. Yes, I have at least once imagined that my plane would crash, and have not been bothered by the thought. Maybe when you fly enough you come to terms with the idea that one day, its going to happen, and there is nothing you can do about it. "On a long enough timeline, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero." Most things aren't that dark though. Like, when checking in my baggage, I sometimes have the urge to put my wrist out, and check myself into the cargo area. Or to put myself on the conveyer belt in order to get x-rayed. Or my favorite fantasy, which involves running through the metal detectors and having all of the airport security chase after me, just to see those assholes break a sweat for nothing. I know, I'm twisted.
So what was the other thing that really stuck out to me? Well, that I don't mind the loneliness of airports. Or airplanes. In fact, I rather enjoy it. Ok, that may be a stretch, but still, there is something about the loneliness of an airport that I almost crave. It makes me so melancholy to be sitting there alone, knowing that I will fly alone, eat my "single serving" while staring out the window, then arrive to an airport empty of anyone for me, go to the baggage claim alone (where older men always seem to take pity on me and help me with my bags), then find the nearest tram or taxi to get where I am going. I wouldn't call this process empowering or anything stupid and feminist like that, but it is rather grounding. I live my life constantly surrounded with friends and family, leaving me feeling rather isolated when I am alone. But something about traveling alone is a breath of cold fresh air, making me feel empty yet more like an individual than anything else. " What you are feeling is premature enlightenment" . Something about savoring the fact that you don't have to be happy to be content, don't need to be surrounded by people. Yes, sitting in an airport feeling alone was somehow therapeutic for me. Being normal was never my thing, no matter how good I may be at faking it.
An album by one of my favorite artists is called Something About Airplanes. Funny how I now have my own meaning for that one, like all of a suddenly the album title makes sense to me.
Well, maybe later I will get to my actual trip, what I did and where I went. Or maybe I won’t.
December's chill comes late, the days get darker and we wait for this direness to pass.
There are piles on the floor of artifacts from dresser drawers, and i'll help you pack.