There's something nastolgic about airports. The way people pass in a hurry, I always wonder where they are going. There's the traveling to a new place or maybe a familiar place. Within hours into a missile through different time zones and 35,000 feet from the world. I love every second of it.
People with venti coffees and rollar bags. People looking tired and dated usually the ones sitting up at the bar before noon. There's nothing special that happened today with a layover as slow as molasses, I get to people watch in Detriot. It's a sleepy town, the energy of people is low. Not low as in depressed, low like easy going. I can feel the moment I leave New York that time slows down. It's very subtle but it happens the moment the plane lifts from the ground something happens. Then you land somewhere and there's space and slow moving people. All my familiar things. There's the waitress that is sweet and attentive. A coffee takes at least 5 minutes here. It's nice. I am never rushing. New York is a lot of rushing just to wait, here you kinda just settle in to the natural flow of simpler times. The difference between the 2 sometimes confuses me.
It takes me 2 days to snap out of New York but once I do it's a beautiful thing. It's almost like I smoked a joint in what feels like a high haze the sky becomes bluer. Like each minute I can feel and it's long. I sleep better. My 8 year old self surfaces again and from deep within I am happy mostly because I am home. It's all I have ever known.
Going home is crucial, some people try to erase that side of themselves as if that's possible. It's a giant reminder of where you came from and where you are going. I'm just lucky cause I get the best of both worlds.
No comments:
Post a Comment