Airports

Today I got to experience one of the many joys to the start of the holiday season--the airport. First of all, I live in Virginia, but go to school in Missouri. I obviously don't get to go home all that much, and when I do, I fly. I'm terrified of heights. But I fly so I can be home with my family.

I hate what entails traveling. I loathe packing, the whole business of it turns me off. I hate having to do laundry so I can have clothes to wear, or having to quasi-plan out what I'll be wearing for the next however many days. I always forget things. This time, I forgot a razor. Good thing my boyfriend is back west and I don't have to shave my legs. I have to make lists. Or else I'll forget my phone, or computer, or something else important.

But what I really hate most is security. Poor anxious travelers file in to the roped off sections to have their belongings rifled through and to be felt up by an overweight and underpaid TSA officer. Maybe really lonely guys enjoy being patted down. It might be the most action they've seen in a while. Everyone reacts the same after getting through security. After the frenzy of getting halfway undressed, you have to collect your things haphazardly and perform the walk of shame to the closest bench to repack your belongings and locate your dignity. But, luckily everyone else is doing the same, so they too avoid eye contact like they also just had a date gone sour. It's degrading.

Nonetheless, through the pain and torture I go through to get to my gate, I get on a plane and find myself in a place where I haven't been since August when I left. I'm home, in my own bed and the few thousand t-shirts I couldn't fit in my bag on the way back to school.