Movement

I just took a 2-hour colectivo ride to the Ezeiza airport to catch my flight to São Paulo. 1.50 pesos (50 cents). I am freezing and the bus ride started to play with my emotions (twice it doubled-back as if mocking me). I didn't want to pay the 40 pesos to take the airport shuttle bus and I had 2 hours to ponder why BsAs doesn't have a direct colectivo to the airport. Shrug.

But here is where it gets good. I love American Airlines. I know it isn't very popular to say, as if I have bought into the consumer masses and support big business, gas guzzling, slick advertisement driven consumption. But, I love 'em. Let me tell you why.

I have been rubbing pennies together for weeks; I am still living on two pairs of jeans and 5 t-shirts and honestly, I am sick of them. I have staked out the best cafes in BsAs to get a coffee and three medialunas for only 6 pesos, not because I love pastries, but because its a cheap way to eat. I am starting to loathe medialunas.

But now, right now, I am sitting in the Admirals Club, thanks to my ridiculous amount of frequent flier miles and my platinum status. I am drinking nescafe; it is warm and delicious. There are cookies. Free internet. I bet they even have showers. I never want to leave.

I've wasted so much time in airports. I kind of love them too. Something about the people coming and going, the overpriced food, the airport air, the people dressed in their best and their worst, the strange purpose of queueing and going to the bathroom.

I wonder how many hours I have actually spent in an airport in my life. What have I done with that time? One time, I got drunk off a large beer in Texas (somewhere) and set up a match.com account (look at how many things are wrong in that sentence)! I've written blog entries in Madrid's aeropuerto. I've eaten in the creepiest bar in the world - Phoenix's "Fox News Restaurant," with Bill O'Reilly on 20 screens. Conference calls. Crying. I've spent many lonely hours in Heathrow. I missed a flight in Minneapolis. I've never been so excited to be going home. I've never been so unsure of what I am doing. I've never been so excited to be going somewhere new. I've done work. Read great books, horrible novels and trashy magazines. I've slept. I've been unable to sleep. I've never wanted the plane to land. I've changed my life getting on planes.

Airports seem like limbo. And in a way, they are. You are going or coming - it's a crossing point for so many momentous moments and insignificant passageways. The thoughts of travelers are stifling; their thoughts of loss, joy, expectation, worry, longing, frustration, sadness, anger; their thoughts of who they are going to and who they are leaving behind. All of this fills up an airport and makes it a unique little pot of human emotion. I can only imagine that the poor dogs travelling in their little doggy cages are happy to be shut away from all the human chaos swirling around.

And so, I find myself in the warm womb of the Admirals Club and looking forward to a bit of travel and a new city. It's good to be moving again.