I hate the airport. It stresses me out. It makes me angry, and frustrated. At the airport, I am not a nice guy. Tensions are running high, and everything annoys me on a greater scale than usual. From time to time, I find myself there, though very rarely (if ever) for reasons of my own. Usually when I’m at the airport, it’s because I’m doing the pick up. Tonight, it was for my brother, who flew in from Darwin for his two weeks of annual leave.
I drove down, fighting my tired eyes by blasting the air con and loud music in my car, in an attempt to keep myself alert. It went smoothly enough at first, but there were the roadworks, which forced me to take a different and completely unknown route to the airport. Then there was the driving around, the finding a park only to then be ushered away because I had been there “too long”, then there was more driving and…well, I hate the airport.
If I’m lucky, all I have to do is find a park, pick up my person, and drive away. If I’m unlucky – and I usually am – I have to go through all the rigmarole, getting increasingly angrier with every passing moment. If I’m really unlucky, I have to actually go in to the terminal and do the baggage collection, and the waiting, and all that other not-so-fun stuff. Honestly, in no way do I envy those people who often travel for work, and spend a significant portion of their time checking in and out of terminals, collecting luggage, waiting in lines, getting randomly selected, hailing cabs or busses…
I don’t go on trips myself. At least, not the kind of trips that involve needing to board a plane. I’ve only ever had three occasions to catch a plane; once when my mother and I visited my sister in Queensland when I finished year 12, once a few years back for a compulsory work related assessment conducted in Sydney, and most recently to Queensland again for my sister’s wedding. On all three occasions, they were trips essentially planned by others, for purposes not my own. In fact, the only real holiday I’ve ever had was to Tasmania, and I travelled there by ferry. Not that that was a particularly pleasant experience either, but at least it was less stressful than the airport.
I like to go on solo adventures, and long drives. It might take me longer, it might even be more expensive. My butt might get sore, my eyes might get tired. But would I take those slight inconveniences over the much greater one of having to endure the airport? Every. Time.