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Airports Are The Loneliest Places on Earth
Toronto International Airport (January 2005)
I've said it before, and I'll say it again, I hate airports.
The thing about travelling is the anticipation of being transported to another place, with the hope of something better, new places to go to, a taste of new food, better weather and meeting people we miss. Then there are those who make airports more like a burgeoning pimple on a blind date. Pimples are never good.
At least yesterday, the airport experience was uneventful. There were no long queues. There was no 30-minute profiling of US National Homeland Security. I didnt have to sleep the night before to catch an early flight. Tickets, passports and all the docs were not home sitting at the countertop. There was nothing that resembled any of my past experiences in an airport.
Still I feel an air of loneliness. The leaving of loveones, the thought of flying, the anxiety of not making the flight after a lengthy questioning, the paranoia to immigration people's smug faces, the pangs of being alone in a terminal, all these add up.
Yesterday, was a mishap-free day. I was early by an hour, surfed for 10 minutes (which cost me an arm and a leg) and started a good book. Still, I hate airports. I wont be able to be Tom Hanks in Terminal. Never.