A Travel Journal.
For friends, family, and my memories.
I've taken my first malaria pill and I'm ready to go. I'm hovering between nervous and whatever emotion labels the action of "can't-stop-smiling," so I seem to be in a normal state of travel-prep. It was raining crazy on the drive over, but once we got to the airport my dad hugged me goodbye and security passed without incident.
At this point I'm chilling at my gate waiting for the flight to board- I've still got about an hour and twenty minutes. So far, people-watching has yielded a curious little girl who seemed really interested in my sandwich, and another girl about my age who sat next to me and is now reading a book. At the time I was also reading a book, and I think the whole girl-sitting-alone-reading-a-book-thing marked me as a kindred spirit so we're kind of contentedly existing next to each other at this point. She sneezed and I said "bless you" long enough after for it to be a bit awkward, but all is well.
First leg of travel.
In line I met another college girl my age and we had a lovely chat. She was headed to India.
Fourteen hours plus. It was actually quite pleasant. The food was alright, my seat partners were kind. Afterwards I found one of my seat buddies again and I tried to get the wifi on her phone to work. We didn't succeed, but she showed me pictures of her children. She was headed to see her parents.
Solo flying is more talkative than group flying. Lone travelers stick together.
I love airports. I can't help it. I love the rush. I love the idea that everyone is headed off to some place for some reason. It's like everyone else around me is existing in the perpetual state of flux I experience myself
Greetings, from Doha, Qatar.