Every F#cking Airport

Don’t all airports look the same?

The fading light, that amber glow, the happy workers seeming content when it’s slow at 1am. You wonder where they go, what they do, how is their life when they’re out in a real world you won’t be able to see.

The steps, the elevators the long and silent rows of luggage trolleys, looking like expectant soldiers, all at attention and waiting, eager to please their new commanding officer. The wheels rolling, scraping, cases bumping and lumping …

Walls and walls of glass and steel, paint and floors, shiny and scraped. Each terminal the inside of a travelers prison, of which you wish to get in, and wait with hundreds upon thousands of others for that slow coming privilege.

And tiredness, oh how I associate sleep deprecation with these foe polished hubs. Uniform wearers, coffee servers, the bored sales assistants at 1am. They look tired too. For the same reasons as I or for wider, more having to do with occupational choice reasons, who really knows.

Airports take you places you really want to go. But to get there, you have to spend time in a place you would rather not be. Airports are what make the actual reality of traveling boring, and being in the places you go to, amazing. All the more amazing because when you get finally there, when you properly get to where you are traveling to, you’re finally no longer in the f#cking airport … S.H.

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