Let’s be real–if you’re not flying in an upper class aircraft cabin, the options for sustenance are under par. Flavorless chicken slabs, runny green beans and a rocky roll of cold bread that’s only good for pelting at a disorderly child. Economy class gets no love.
I never want to look haggard after a flight and, I assume, neither do most people. Although, for the mother and daughter travelers who boarded my last flight wearing matching fleece pajamas with polar bears in Santa hats…
I am flying. I am sitting in the comfort of my fancy, black leather seat, laptop open, and writing this blog. I arrived at the airport a few hours earlier for the second time in a month. I know, I know, I love this place. Besides, after such a long separation from travel we have a lot of catching up to do. I walked into Terminal 3 of Los Angeles Airport to meet a scene quite unlike that of last month’s. There were flowers in vases, fancy carpets, and cute pink mood lighting. Beyonce’s Sweet Dreams was playing in the background.…
Aah, the airport. The bookends of all my greatest travel stories. I am finally here, finally feeling the familiar rush of the traveling I have so missed. The crowded, always too narrow walkways are strewn with people trying to figure out where to go. Inevitably, the charming, old couple who appears to have never traveled before, always gets in line right in front of me, asking for advice and wanting to know if they are in the right place. I oblige them with a smile, after all, this is all part of the experience. I watch as lovers part and exchange…