The Airport Run


I had to make a run out to the airport this morning. The girlfriend was being deported, or had to go home, or was going home of her own choice (to be honest I don't really listen but the deportation bit is probably the true bit). So being the kind jester that I am (quite in the back) I used the jestermobile to drop her out.
I love the airport.

I may or may not have mentioned before (and could not be bothered to check through the previous posts) but I am, at heart, a writer. I enjoy writing stories, creating tales that both could happen and ones that are so insane they will never come to pass. For me the airport is a hub of inspiration.

If it wasn't for the funny looks that security would give me, I would spend hours just sitting in the airport and watching the stories unfold around me. You have parents collecting their children, couples reuniting, old friends having a laugh, tears as people go back to homes abroad after a small family visit.

How can anybody not love the airport. Even when I am in the long lines waiting to check in myself, rather than simply watch as I was able to today, I get a buzz from the millions of stories just zipping around me.

And because I know she is going to read this and comment at some point, the girlfriend was not deported.



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