The melodic clamor of travel

Nowadays travel is second nature to me.

It's not uncommon for me to arrive at the airport a half hour before take off.  I walk to the kiosk where I punch in my frequent flier number (that I now have memorized) and walk to the expedited security line.  I often gets looks from older travelers, "Is she in the right line??", as I walk along side them in my jeans, tank, cardigan, coat and aviator sunglasses, my hair usually tied up in a wet, messy bun.  I walk through the terminal, (knowing full well where the midwest, socal, and east coast destination gates are respectively).  I walk with purpose on the people movers, reaching my gate.  I cut and shimmy my way through the inevitable crowds of people who are waiting to board.... getting looks "Is she sure that it's her turn to board?" as I cut to the front of the line.  I get to my seat and slouch over in sweet slumber until I arrive at my destination.

That's often my travel ritual.  Recently I've been going about things differently.  I wake up extra early for these flights, packing twenty minutes before I have to leave (because inevitably, my belongings are still in my suitcase from my last trip, so I just need to add fresh clothes). I get to the airport extra early... and take my time meandering through the airport.  Always making time to buy a mango naked juice drink for my flight.  I plop myself down at the gate and stare.  I love to watch people move.  Maybe it's my love of architecture that lets me appreciate the way people move through a space, but I just love it.  I could stare at people walking for hours.  (as I often do while at coffee shops).

There's a peace in observing the world around me.  I love it.