Essay

In security

By Jackie Hoffart

I don't hate airports. I kind of love them.

Even though most airports are very bland, universalized places, I still love the feeling they give me. Because I usually fly alone, I become anonymous, untethered, disconnected, free.

Suddenly, I feel 16 again, and I am on my way from Calgary to Frankfurt, about to experience my first taste of the life lived FAR from home.

Even though I am usually just flying home for the holidays, looking up at the departure board I feel empowered. Sure, this time I'm flying to Calgary, but next time I could be going to Buenos Aires or Istanbul or Sydney. The difference between this trip and that trip? Just a few gate numbers.

I don't really mind the heightened security since 9/11. I didn't really like giving my fingerprints in Japan (I'm not a criminal!), and I try to avoid connecting through the U.S. because, well, they just do everything the hard way. But I will allow for a greater level of privacy invasion than seems necessary because flying still seems sacred to me, a privilege rather than a right. A technical achievement that, although seemingly destroying our planet, is still a kind of miracle.

I like the feeling of waiting at the gate before boarding, like I'm already halfway there. Just looking around, I feel a kinship with the other passengers. There's already a bit of there, here.

I don't really mind the flying part either. I used to be able to sleep easily on planes, but now less so. Luckily, in-flight entertainment has really improved, and I'm quite happy to wile away nine hours catching up on rom-coms or listening to music.

I always eat all of the food — I think it's really cliched to complain about plane food. They do pretty well considering how difficult it must be to prepare a warm meal for hundreds of people at 40,000 feet, and then another one four hours later.

I don't get aggressive while waiting for my baggage, preferring to be patient and enjoy watching the people who seem to think standing really close to the baggage carousel will make their suitcases emerge more quickly.

If someone is meeting me at the airport, I savor the moment of recognition: "Welcome back!" Life doesn't provide us with enough opportunities to feel special or make others feel special, but airport arrivals — especially international — are the low-hanging fruit of the feel-good orchard.

And leaving the airport always seems to be somewhat instantaneous, so painless. Much easier than entering. But they are designed that way, which I appreciate.

To me, airports are the closest we've ever come to Doraemon's doko-demo door. Sure, it takes more time and money than just walking through a door, but airports offer the same threshold of possibility. The same promise, the same superpower — the same escape from everyday life.

Shukan ST: December 10, 2010

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