Checking the Scene at the Airport

Having traveled last week, I'd like to report that I love airports. I used to love them more, before all the extra security measures. But still, there's something fun about them. They're kinda like amusement parks in that I'm willing to pay stupid prices for mediocre food and they're excellent spots for people-watching. I took note of the following species while people-watching during my recent travels:

• The teen girl with the raccoon eyes. I thought that heavy black eye makeup was out of style now? And it didn't match at all with her outfit. 
• The overwhelmed parents toting toddlers and infants. Arms full with car seats and strollers, you just know they're silently praying that the kid doesn't cry or kick the seat in front of them during the flight. And you, of course, are silently praying they aren't on your flight at all.
• The confused and clueless. Often the elderly who haven't flown in years. I can imagine the post 9-11 setup would be pretty daunting.
• The "no rest for the weary" business travelers with laptops fired up and ready. You can even pay for internet access on the flights now. Can't catch a break, can they?
• School teams in their matching travel gear, probably enjoying the travel experience as much as they'll enjoy the thrill of the game.
• Youth groups on their mission trips. For the record, I think these kids are awesome. 
• Soldiers in uniform. I wonder if they're coming or going and where they've been. Once saw a troop roundly applauded upon arriving at an airport. Very, very cool.
• The young couple so obviously in love. Are they newlyweds off to the honeymoon, destined for 50 years of happiness? Or is it the couple's first trip together, destined for a breakup on the flight home?

I love airports because a flight almost always symbolizes something new.  A new challenge or adventure. A new start. An opportunity for renewal. Mostly though, I am moved by the scene at the airport when loved ones are greeted by friends or family, or sadly, when they are forced to say a tearful goodbye.

Twenty years ago next month, my then-boyfriend Rob drove with me to Oxford, OH where I was starting grad school at Miami University. After a couple days, I had to take him to the airport for his flight home. Talk about tearful goodbyes. I sobbed to let him go. But I'll never forget the gate attendant looking at us and comforting me by predicting that Rob and I would be seeing each other again. And thankfully, he was right.

Any airport stories to share with Freakin' Angel readers? Anything you particularly love, or hate, about the airport?