travelers

Collectively, we are travelers. 

The simplicity of this sentence resonates in my mind as I sit at terminal 63a, reading a USA Today (America's Infotainment Source!), awaiting a flight to somewhere else.  I do not concentrate on the news I'm reading.  It's light and hollow, and I can't even digest the pseudo-news that someone else had already chewed for me, and then packaged in a multi-colored, seventy-five cent paper.  Instead, I survey the people around me, gathering data that seems equally useless but far more interesting.  For example, people still wear tee-shirts with eagles and deer and fancy cursive writing.  Everyone in the world has an iPod, or at least, everyone in an airport does.  Chicks are hotter at the airport.  I don't know why this is, but it's a fact.  Take an average woman with clean hair and a pleasing figure and put her in an airport with a travel bag and some low-riding sweats, and she becomes a magnet to her fellow male travelers.  It's like beer goggles, but in the airport.  Airport goggles, I guess.

Zippers zip and food is finished as the boarding continues and ends endlessly all around us.  An overweight mother in a pleather vest reads about what's InStyle and doesn't notice as her kid is sticking his gum against the wall and back into his mouth, over and over again.  The beeping of a courtesy shuttle whizzes by, and that airport/airplane smell keeps finding it's way into my nose.  I love traveling, and in this place, we are all travelers.

And then my mind takes me to that annoying place it goes, when it thinks it has everything in life figured out.  It arrogantly nudges me towards a realization that begins with the idea that "Collectively, we are travelers" is some sort of statement that can be applied to the entire human race, and ends with no clear or definitive truth.  I smile at my own cleverness that isn't awfully clever, and sip my quad-venti-iced-latte with whole milk.  I'm up to four shots a day. 

"Starbucks!  Fuck yeah!"

We are called, by zone.  I glance at the flight information on the monitor behind the gate desk, and can't stop myself from imagining the news announcing the "tragic crash" of flight XXXX.  It's morbid and it's slightly scary, but since it happens every time I fly, it's almost comforting as it has become part of my routine.  I don't believe in jinxes or the like, so thinking it doesn't mean anything (I tell myself).

My bags are easy to stow.  I've become an expert traveler over the past few years, and I have learned to pack light, have the things I need handy, and increase the flying experience 1000% by owning a solid pair of noise-canceling headphones.  I fire up Firefly on my iPod, plug in, and block out the cabin hum and chatter with a trip back to "Our Mrs. Reynolds." 

Collectively, we are travelers?  Whatever fleeting thought I had of that relating to all of mankind has given up trying to find a voice, and waits for another pensive moment.  For now, I know that at least I am a traveler.  A plain looking woman with clean hair and sweatpants takes the seat next to me, and I remind myself that I am wearing airport goggles.  Luckily I'm married, because the goggles haven't tricked her into giving me a second look.  Maybe airport goggles are a guy thing.  It's not that I ever would, of course.  You just like to know you've still got it, even if maybe you don't.

And then, thought ends as I turn off my brain and fall into a TV show.

Comments

[Scratch]

Ding! That qualifies as not only a 1 in 30 - but a great post period. Nice one Shane. I'll raise my own bar tomorrow...

[annie]

ok. you're back.

and airport goggles...not just a guy thing.

[Peter]

Great post, man.

I thought that "airport goggles" were just a me thing.

I wonder what causes it. A constant quest for mile high club status?

[AlCantHang]

Well done, I've noticed the airport goggles, iPod explosion, and done the imagined newscast myself. As far as "Our Mrs. Reynolds"... God bless Christina Hendricks.

[Minton]

Good post. I thought for sure you were going to talk about the The Next Generation episode "The Traveler" with that veiny testicle-headed dude showing Wil Wheaton how to disappear into thin air.

[Suzanne]

Airport goggles - hee. For me, the goggles come from a curiosity about how other people live their lives. That clean-haired girl with her travel bag - who is she, where is she going? Do you create stories/histories for people who catch your attention? That curiosity about a stranger's life makes you temporarily interested in her, though not necessarily as a hook-up thing.

I love to sit in airports and watch people. The businessmen bore me - I know they are just going to some lame conference - it's other travelers that interest me the most.