A Love Letter to Airports

It’s about the journey, not the destination. 

This sentiment — the origin of which is unknown, although it’s often attributed to American philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson — has wormed its way into colloquial vocabularies, especially where traveling is concerned. The saying is one I’ve heard since what feels like time immemorial.

It’s also one I take quite literally. 

While I love the rush of exploring a new place, for me, the vacation begins before it does for most — right at the inception of my journey. The moment I enter an airport. 

Airports aren’t typically considered destinations of joy, as 45% of U.S. consumers find airports to be stressful, according to global market intelligence and research agency company Mintel. 

Despite this seeming stress, airports are a place that awe and inspire me. I show up for a flight early not because I’m dreading long security lines but because I want to explore. I love to meander through different gates, using the moving walkways to glide past planes.

I peruse through overpriced airport stores like I’m making my rounds at a farmers market, surveying my snack options for the journey ahead. After procuring my treat, I scour over an airport map in search of a fine dining pre-flight meal. 

The beauty of airports resides in their idiosyncrasies — they are a liminal space where social conventions disappear. An airport bar may be the only place where you can see a woman with a ferret in a sparkly pink backpack or someone drinking a negroni at 8 a.m. It’s the only place where men in suits munch on nerd gummy clusters while sitting next to a little girl eating a Bobby Flay burger. 

This is what I love about airports — they’re an amalgamation of diversity, a beehive full of people coming and going. There’s something liberating about being a part of this buzz, a pulsing part of the heartbeat of traveling. Airports are the heart and planes are the arteries. 

Although I love airports, my love would be fallible if I wasn’t critical of them as well. Denver International Airport is rightfully infamous for its long security lines, which feed travelers through one security checkpoint regardless of what gate they are going to. 

Yet, this frustrating setup is framed by a plethora of conspiracy theories associated with the Denver airport, including claims that it’s home to secret societies, underground Nazi tunnels, artistic clues to the apocalypse and aliens, according to The Denver Post.

These conspiracies, along with what The New York Times called a “Towering, Terrifying Demon Horse” — a 32-foot-tall statue of a blue horse titled “Mustang” but known colloquially as “Blucifer” — make the airport a destination in and of itself. 

But the Denver airport isn’t the only airport that warrants its own vacations. Changi Airport in Singapore has a variety of tourist attractions and entertainment options — including a butterfly garden, suspended trampoline and the world’s tallest indoor waterfall, according to the airport’s website.  

When friends ask me about my dream destinations, Changi Airport is always at the top of my list. 

Airports are magical places. Aside from the food choices, tourist attractions and conspiracy theories they offer, they facilitate moments of profound emotional interconnectivity. Who hasn’t cried from a video of a family being reunited at an airport? Who doesn’t weep over a romance that ends with a declaration of love after a chase through a labyrinth of terminals? 

These tropes stem from somewhere. They acknowledge an airport’s ability to be many things at once — a place of reunion and renewal where beginnings and endings happen side-by-side. Airports are converging points for people all over the world, making them places where truly anybody is welcome. 

Although the culture of airports demands coming and going, taking time to appreciate the whirlwind of life constantly inhabiting every dark corner of an airport brings out the character of a place with seemingly no social consequences. 

There are few things I love more than traveling — and for me, traveling includes people watching while munching on a $7 bag of trail mix, backpack on my lap, waiting to board a plane. 

Feature image courtesy of Hailey Gates