There are so many wonders of travel…

B called me as I hurried through another crazy day at work. “Are you excited?” Tonight we leave for California.

“Of course,” I answered, mentally listing all the reasons to be: we’ll see my aunt and cousin, bake in the LA heat, escape from the stressors of Boston for a while. But I responded with the most overwhelming reason for excitement: “I love planes. And airports.”

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely. They take me places.”


Truthfully, I love everything about travel – even the delays! (We spent nearly two hours lingering in the Milwaukee airport, which – by the way – closes remarkably early. Still, I had a beer, joked around with the fam’ hi , watched strangers mill about with great interest, and even bought some playing cards that had cheese on them. Tee hee)

There is just so much wonder, so much to soak in from airport to airport. To list a few…

• Remember when we could wear shoes when going through security? I like to play a game as I march through line these days; depending on my mood I make faces, stare or avoid eye contact, shuffle awkwardly or walk confidently, and see if I get pulled aside for a more thorough search. More often then not, they pick me and rummage through my stuff, which usually leads to an unnecessarily heated exchange that results in tears on my part. (There’s something about travel that piques emotions, dontcha think?)

• Also, why does it smell so funny when you cross the threshold of the boarding ramp onto the plane? It’s truly an indescribable (or nondescript) stench, but guaranteed to be there. Maybe that’s what the outside of planes smell like.

• Have you ever reached into the pocket in front of you, only to discover a torn up and discarded boarding pass from the person who occupied your seat on the last flight? As I finger the scrap of paper, I imagine the many journeys this iron beast made just today… and also how poorly the cleaning people did their job between adventures. (What filth did they fail to clean? Am I sitting in a pool of bacteria? Will I arrive in LA sick with a bug some stranger left behind?) More intently I wonder what his story was – who was this person? Who is John Doe? Was he going home, or visiting? How old was he? Was he handsome? Awkward? Why is the seat marked on the stub not the seat I occupy now? Did he switch to accommodate others, or did someone switch to help him?

• After take off, how the hell do planes fly? All that weight, suspended in mid-air, lightening and rain in the periphery of the horizon shared by nature and man-made beasts.

• And why do some people sleep so well on planes, and others can’t even manage a nap?

• Is there something about an airplane cabin that stimulates certain desires, skills, etc? I always feel the need to write when I’m 30,000 feet high. Do others also succumb to an overpowering surge of creativity?

• There is nothing better than being served warm chocolate chip cookies and milk halfway through your flight. For this reason, please travel Midwest.

• For me, there’s always something special about the descent. Most prominently is the intense excitement of being someplace new… or returning to that warm, special place called home after time elsewhere. But it’s also a remarkably unique perspective of a city. Boston, for example, is manageable, sweet, painted in unobtrusive colors and adorned with a fantastic skyline. Milwaukee is green, spacious. And LA – LA is a city. When you approach, you see clusters of light from far, far away, and wonder: is that all LA? You figure one cluster must be San Diego, and all the others in between must be the many small cities that litter the coast. But as you approach, you realize it’s all LA. The city is a sprawling mass of spectacular lights perfectly arranged in a grid you can see clearly from miles above. Boston doesn’t resemble anything remotely close to a grid; it’s an ad-hoc web of streets and neighborhoods developed throughout the history of this country. By comparison, LA is a baby – settled more than 150 years after Boson. And a place like Paris, for example, shames Boston in urban experience, having been around for more than two millennia.

• Airports themselves are fascinating. Sitting in the plane, waiting for the clearance to disembark, you watch another world full of life. Airports are like stables, corralling giant metal machines instead of horses.

• And then, all the wonders of travel culminate in Arrival. The battle for bags at the baggage claim, the always disorientating search for transportation (even when you’re familiar with the airport, finding a way out seems unnecessarily complicated), the relief when you realize you’re minutes from reaching your destination, and the renewed energy and excitement when you finally arrive. It was exhilarating to see Sarah – even though it was 5am EDT, and we had spent a good twelve hours trying to survive from one place to another.

I think that’s it – that’s why I love the act of traveling so much. It’s the adventure, the fight for survival (however modest), inherent in any airport/plane experience.

It reminds me of Indiana Jones. (Speaking of -- can you wait for #4 to come out next spring?!?! I can’t!)