I’m typing this from above the beautiful province of Alberta. It’s easy to remember why I dislike airports so much every time I enter one. The loud children running wild, the older ladies who over-dress for a flight in 6-inch heels and huge, dark sunglasses, or the crazy man who sits there babbling to himself in a foreign language all by himself. The thing that irks me the most is the people who think they’re superior to everyone around them, the woman who has been assigned to row 12 but chooses to weasel her way to the front of the line after rows 27-38 have been called. It makes one want to say “if you honestly think you’re that important then you should pay the extra money to get into executive class instead of getting in everyone else’s way”. Honestly, it makes zero sense, when you think about it, we’re all taking off on the exact same time. The only difference between sitting in the tightly fitting plane and the open terminal is a feeling of severe claustrophobia.
Besides those minor annoyances I actually quite enjoy the terminal, so long as there’s a Starbucks and enough seats at the gate to relax and breathe prior to being launched into the air in a tin can full of strangers. I don’t really enjoy the random people who decide to joke around with you, talk about their travels, or inquire about “why a young lady like myself is traveling all on her own”, I’m aware that I look like I’m 14, however, I’m not totally incompetent. I’m jut excited to be moving one step closer to my new home, my new life and my new school all in the quaint little country of Holland. Although it’s quite the nerve-wracking experience, moving across the world by yourself at 18, I’m feeling quite nostalgic and adventurous, grown-up even.
