Since I can remember I've always loved to travel. The vacation idea was exhilarating but more so was the thought of going to an airport again. I've always loved airports. Their dab, bland colours and vast ceilings were a visual feast to my infant eyes. I never lost the passion for the structure of airports, I still love them today. I'd get excited when we'd walk to the terminal and check in the bags. Then a few hours later we'd see the plane we were boarding, the nose of the Boeing looking right at me through a gigantic glass window, me looking back at it with my hands on the glass. I don't know if maybe it was my love for airports and planes that drew to me to airports or whether I associated it with prospective good times abroad. I've been to dozens of airports around the world; Heathrow, Pearson, LAX, and Bandaranaike International in Sri Lanka just to name a few. I travelled every summer and winter break in my youth years.
Everytime I look head on at a plane, airbuses, Boeings, whatever...I wonder how long and how many parts comprise this gigantic metal bird and it nauseates me. These random ponderings make me feel like a child again. I still love airports and I plan to make a scrapbook of all the airports I've been to in the world.
The only difference between then and now, is that I have my rebel by my side :D
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