I am transiting in Hong Kong, a bit bleary eyed and bored.
I can’t decide if I like airports or I am indifferent to it. I don’t hate it that is for sure, for every time I am at an airport it is for reasons of adventure or reunion, yet it is still a place that is a limbo, between in and out, between travel and home, and never quite the actual destination.
It is the hours of waiting, from having checked in through to the never ending security checks, through the duty free stores that are mostly more expensive than street pricing and sitting around listening to announcements, that make airports rather dull.
No matter how much they try to tell you, no airport is exciting. None. Yes, even Changi.
However, stories can still be told of airports and my notable experiences have never got anything to do with their ‘excellent’ facilities and shops. They almost always involve people, people who are also in limbo, who, like me, also waited to get this part of the trip over and done with.
There was the cleaner who accidentally woke me when he poked his broom too far (no connotation intended here) when I slept the night on the floor of Kuala Lumpur International Airport (KLIA) and the dude I met overnight as we both stretched out on the benches of Lima Airport, both not waiting to waste money for a hotel during our 16 hours layover.
I’ve spent hours listening to the boarding announcements and counted how many times one individual could be called before they eventually abandon their luggage to take off without them. I’ve imaged what the face of these voices look like, and watched from the windows as the numerous planes landed and took off.
As I am stuck in this tin of a building, in limbo between adventures, not really in the country, nor am I really out.
However with the knowledge that this void is the only thing standing between now and a new adventure, I continue to wait patiently.
I am going to go with indifferent.