The Airport

The airport is both a happy place and a sad place. It is happy because people are going on a journey, and it is very likely they are meeting a loved one at the end of that journey. But it is also sad because one could be leaving and never know when one would be back again.

The airport is life in transit. People are going somewhere, and people are leaving somewhere. Everytime I’m at the airport, I think about how transient life is. I think always about how mundane, painful and pointless the journey is. When I’m at the airport, I think only about the destination.

Life, unfortunately, is like the airport. The airport is full of people – and it is full of people from all walks of life that you both like and dislike. It is a place where people are forced to come together, and whether they like it or not, have to go through this journey in order to arrive somewhere.

At the airport, there are people who get in your way. The ones who slow you down at the check-in counter, the ones who faff around at the screening counter, the ones who are not as savvy as you hope them to be. The airport is also where cultural stereotypes come to life.

There is unfortunately, no way to go through this except to take it all in your stride, one step at a time, unless you never want to travel nor go anywhere at all.

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