an ode to airports

I love to travel and one of the great parts of travel are the airports one must swim through. I had this reconfirmed as I stepped off the flight from Kansas City to Denver and wound my way around the airport to find my connecting flight to SLC. It was just this thrill. This fun, “who knows what’s going to happen” thrill that I always get when I step off any plane. It’s the endless amount of visual and olfactory stimulation I receive in one concentrated place. For instance, where else am I going to run into a woman in her forties with bright red hair, facial piercings and gothic apparel sitting right next to a balding old man wearing a pinstriped suit all accompanied by the sweet scent of CinnaBuns. I love it! Airports are kind of like people museums. On the way to the airport, during one of our many “lively” debates, my dad made the distinction that each person is like a work of art. This is one point we could agree on. Watching people and understanding them is no different than admiring a DaVinci or Andy Warhol exhibition in some upscale New York art museum. Whether it be a flight to Mexico, Ecuador or Colorado it is always the same. And because there are no heights involved, I find it to be a more enjoyable thrill than any six flags roller coaster.
The other thought that went through my head as I meandered down the fast food alleys of the Denver Airport was, I should call my mom and share this with her. Thank goodness I was given a mother who found the world outside of Meriden Kansas to be not only interesting but also worth visiting. It’s fun to be able to share such experiences with someone who knows exactly what you mean. It’s a little different than expressing the same sentiment to a father whose palms start to sweat the moment his blood detects any form of detachment from the uniform soil of the Midwest. I know he tries, but big white barns simply do not travel well.
That is all I have for now. I am not surrounded by angry crack heads anymore or exploding toilets so my entries may become a little less frequent or at least less dense in their content. You know, something quick you can read in between the time your boss isn’t watching.
Peace!
Michelle