The Airport: Scene 1

Airports and I, we share a love hate relationship. Every time I touch the airport, I’m filled with a strange rush of excitement and anticipation. When you think of the surprises that lie ahead, it’s hard not to love the place for what it offers.

For a girl who has grown up on a steady diet of rom-coms, I firmly believe airports are the best place to kickstart your love story. Have a good look at my profile. Favourite movies? When Harry met Sally, A Lot like Love and Hum Tum. And that is just as much as I love airports. Not to mention, 68.4373% (Yes, I made the figure up) of these romcoms end with one of the actors confessing their undying love for the other, at the airport, minutes before departure.

What do I hate about airports? Three things. The checking, the checking and the checking. How did I forget the long lines? For a person who hates standing in a line when there are five people ahead, waiting for thirty of them to move, is a real task. On top of that parents insist on travelling with their little kids, who insist on crying for no particular reason. They make me hate the world so much. Even more when they stand behind me, grabbing my ass at regular intervals.

Don’t get me started on my own parents. Their worst fear is being trapped in a foreign country with no Indian food to sustain them. Vegetarian food to be precise. So while we’re waiting in the line, they start having in depth conversations about the different ready to make MTR packets and lolas (Sindhi pancakes) they have carried. All of this happens very loudly, by the way, while I stand there wondering why the ground won’t open to swallow me up.

This time round, I’m travelling without my folks and my excitement is contagious. The times I have travelled without them, there has always been a friend. Let me tell you about this friend of mine. Her parents compete with mine in the paranoia department. When we were fifteen and travelling without them for the first time, they insisted on informing the airport staff so they’d look after us. I’m not going to divulge the details of what followed, for my own sake.

I’m the kind of person, who continues to sit whilst the train arrives, and gets up once everybody else has alighted. Coming early to the airport, in my opinion, is one the most pointless things in the world. This time round, I’m so excited, I’ll probably insist on reaching five hours in advance.

The thought of browsing through duty free shops and bookstores in my pretty sailor striped ballerinas and black high waist skirt seems rather exhilarating. Have I told you about my new Zara bag? Let’s just say she is stylish and fabulous. I can’t wait to walk around the airport with her. And then sit by the pretty little airport cafe sipping lattes. For as long as time will permit me.

(To be continued.........)