traveling always makes me feel like i’m in a time warp: the flight delays, the time zone differences (however minimal), the waiting.
our flight was scheduled to depart at around 1pm. we arrived at noon, but the rain that was tearing up the midwest caused delay after delay. we were told that if we stayed on our flight to st. louis, we would probably miss our connection to dc so eventually we opted for a later one with a connection at o’hare. this got us to dca around 10:15pm EST.
we spent all day stuck in limbo, and it surprised me how frustrated i got by the feelings of suspension–at gates E12, E16, H6, on the runway, and in the plane, hovering over expanses of lit up, carved out, land.
it’s strange to be in an intentional space that is starting point, connection, and destination, for thousands of people all at once. add to that the containment factor, the forced identification, and the metal-detector-y feel of it all and it kind of just feels like everyone’s moving around in parallel dimensions.
i generally enjoy airports–their sterility, insulation, transience, the feeling of being pushed through a machine on a conveyor belt. the facade of high security, and the sense of not being able to leave (at least by foot) once you enter makes me feel like i’m in a spaceship, or a submarine–very much a part of the ‘outside world’ but unable to interact with it meaningfully.
also, airports make me feel bourgie as hell. i mean, what kind of mcdonald’s never has a dollar menu?!