Pleasure Notes

December is one of those months in which the frequency of my trips taken to or from an airport tends to rival that of my trips to the bathroom.  Unless I have the stomach flu.  Then the bathroom wins out.  (And no, I do not have a bladder problem, thank you.)

This realization about how much time I’m spending in airports has me reflecting on the pleasures of airport anonymity…

Many people, when forced to envision airports, can only think of long security lines or lost luggage or over-priced Starbucks (how’s that for redundancy).  I’d like to offer a different perspective.

Airports highlight one of mankind’s greatest skills, and I’m not talking about the ability to create cool architecture like the Langenheim Theme Building at LAX or the Sky Plaza at Chek Lap Kok.  No.  I’m talking about the skill of reinvention.  Stick with me…

LAX

There is a great equalizing phenomenon that occurs in airports.  Even those who are traveling first class, and race to the Admiral’s Lounge or whatever as fast as their Louboutins can take them, must still walk the terminal corridors like the rest of us.  And it is in these corridors that reinvention is possible.  In fact, anything can happen.

As just one of millions of travelers, you are automatically cloaked in anonymity.  You can be James Bond, or Jane Bond, or a Bond Girl, or even “M” if you’re in the Medicare demographic.

Fantasy Material

As you sit in the airport bar closest to your gate and listen for announcements justifying your delayed flight, you are whomever you want to be.  Come up with a fabulous backstory and try it on the man two stools over.  See how fast he slips off his wedding ring or starts to expound upon his luck at getting out of hedge funds with his billions intact.  You soon realize that you are not alone in your anonymity, you are not alone in your fantasy, you are not alone in your need to escape.

Indeed, escaping is what airports are all about.