Life Changing Times

I love airports. Luckily, since I spend a significant amount of my life in them.

I’m a people watcher, and airports are one of the best places to engage in this pastime. I love watching people heading out on an adventure, returning from one, meeting and greeting loved ones at arrivals, excited goodbyes at departures.

There is the seasoned traveler – marching through the airport confidently, efficient luggage and clothes, not looking around, they know where they are going and they take no hostages on the way. Not literally, obviously, since I imagine an airport to be one of the worst places to try and stage a kidnap. They are smartly dressed even if casual, and always appear to be extremely organised. In case it’s not obvious I am mildly envious of these people because while I am a confident and accomplished traveler, I hardly ever look smart including casual smart and I always have various extra things in my hands making me slightly chaotic all the time.

Then there are the people who act as if they have never been to an airport in their lives. (Yes, I appreciate some haven’t but it is not these I am talking about.) These are the ones who arrive at security, suddenly remembering that they cannot carry liquids, look affronted when asked to take their laptop out, unfailingly oblivious of everyone else in the queue behind them. They have nothing prepared when they get to the actual security part, search their copious amount of hand luggage for every last liquid, try and fail to fit it into the plastic bag, need to then entirely repack their cases. They must have 5 hours to spare before their flight. The rest of us don’t.

The friends and family at arrival who are there with banners, who cannot contain their excitement at the impending arrival of loved ones. Who are rowdy, laughing, taking up huge amounts of happy space, who look as if they may combust with eager anticipation. Smiles and jokes all round. Love it.

The bleary and bedraggled traveler. Who has come off a red eye flight, has no-one waiting for them, looks around slightly bewildered but knows where they are heading. Exhaustion is palpable from these people, they want to get through and get to bed without having to engage with another human being.

Children are special at airports – because its a confusing place for many adults and yet children seem to be able to navigate them with no problem at all. From queuing at immigration to waiting for bags they take it in their stride. Get up, sit down, stand in line, walk up, down sideways, get on the plane, get off – totally unfazed.

Quite literally as I am writing, while sitting an airport waiting for my family to arrive (sadly, no banners as its not quite the same when you are alone bouncing up and down with balloons), there is a person at a table next to me in the cafe speaking loudly in Bosnian. Believing no-one around him can understand, which is a strange assumption at an airport. I am currently learning more about his relationship with his wife than I ever needed to know. In between he is including copious amounts of swearing, even allowing for the fact that one of the reasons I love that language is for the swearing – the type and the free use of pretty outrageous terms by the majority of people. I’m also learning that today is not one of the best days of his life and seemingly not sweating the small stuff is so far an unknown concept to him, judging from his complaints to the long-suffering person on the other end of the phone Mind you, an elderly man has also just sat next to me talking even louder on the phone, in English, discussing his aged relative’s arthritis and then ends the call abruptly after being told by his wife she is busy at the hairdresser. He is now watching a YouTube clip of ABBA singing Dancing Queen. Loudly.

And I think that’s it – airports give brief snapshots into peoples lives like little else, its like watching a collage of life through the equaliser of travel. Absolutely wonderful.