Friday, March 7, 2008

Disinterested, Party of One

One of the easiest ways to test any relationship is by traveling together. Travel is better than any polygraph the FBI can conjure up. True character is revealed in airports, restaurants, and hotel lobbies.

If the earth were ever to be examined by aliens, I think the best place to start would be the airport. There really is no other public place to see the entire gamut of human emotion on display. There is sadness, happiness, frustration, boredom, excitement, romance, heartbreak, hunger, anger, and ambivalence all under one roof. There are no cookie cutter personalities or appearances; nearly every person is completely different from the next, yet shares the commonality of being at the airport. I love to observe the airport - not just the travelers, but the ticket agents, the husbands picking up wives, the porters carrying bags, the wayward children, and that one guy who is always driving some sort of golf cart vehicle through the most crowded corridor. It's although everyone is exactly where they should be, and completely out of place at the same time. I always try to guess the life stories of the people around me. The bored teenager sitting with her parents. The old couple wearing matching sweatshirts and looking dazed. The suit huddled in the corner with his laptop, cell phone, and venti non-fat latte. The little girl who is awestruck by the planes landing and taking off outside. I wonder where they are going, who they have left behind, and if they are really going to try to get away with that extra carry-on suitcase.

Up until last year, anytime I had flown, I had been by myself. I'm not saying this because I feel bad about it, I'm simply stating the facts. My family lives a few states away, and most of my oldest and dearest friends live at least a Southwest nonstop flight away. And I like to travel, and generally be the boss of myself, which makes exploring new places an adventure for me. However, after traveling with another person, especially one who I would deem a compatible travel buddy, I miss having that other person next to me. There's no one I can share my smirks with when I see something smirk-worthy. There's no one to laugh at me when I stub my toe, trip on the escalator, or bump into some freestanding object (which I will inevitably do). There is something about taking in new places and knowing that without saying a word, you know it's the most peaceful, beautiful, or inspiring place you've been.

Ok, I'm getting schmaltzy, so let's move on.

This morning, two of the coworkers I'm traveling with decided to pick up some donuts for the office on our way into work. We were discussing the difference between donut shops in our city versus donut shops in the Los Angeles area. Now, I know we're just talking donuts here, but it makes me kind of pleased to see that this country isn't as homogenized as it sometimes appears. For me, Ocean Beach bars will always have the best Mojitos. And people outside of Michigan don't even know what a paczki is. The bums in San Francisco are by far the friendliest, and no one can do a speedier oil change than the service stations in Bar Harbor. I like that everything is not exactly the same, everywhere I go, every time I'm there. It makes being nostalgic much more fun.

Have yourself a taste of foreign glamour
Feeding on our way to something new
Missing for a night but gone forever
But they are here to take good care of you

No comments: