Airports

(Written on the 14th of July)

I have come to a stage in my life where I have started to despise airports. The very place that used to hold such mystery and excitement now fills me with a sense of foreboding at overpriced coffee and linoleum hallways.

This could also have something to do with the fact that an experience that once consisted of free miniature bottles of gin delivered with a smile and complimentary headphones on a trip consisting of an hour, now involves being herded like sheep down institutionalized seats, legs hitting your chin and a look of derision should you request a cup of water.

15 hours of said torture could explain my mental state today.

I left my friends in Serbia yesterday at 01:00am and didn’t put my feet on Irish soil till 16:30, the 15 hours in-between were a surreal experience of nodding off at airports, jumping each time the loudspeaker went off threatening to destroy my bag should I leave it unattended, eating packets of chocolate chip cookies at prices worthy of the inflation days of the depression, and dreaming of waves lapping against the poisoned shores of my mind. (Don’t ask)
I went through one too many security checks was asked to take off my outer garments by men
and women who looked like they were just itching to tackle someone in order to break the monotony of their useless existence. I would be pretty pissed off too if I was told that I was protecting homeland security by confiscating tommee tippee water cups and Dove shampoo.
I did however sneak through my razor at each checkpoint and felt a perverse sense of excitement that although my face cream was scrutinized with displeasure I still had the option to hijack a plane with my wicked Gillette.

I think though that the main reason I dislike airports is that they symbolize goodbyes, regardless if you are departing or arriving there is something that you are leaving behind.