airports.

Airports and airplanes have got to be some of the most intriguing places on earth. As I sit here in Portland International Airport, just watching the people go by, I understand why there's an influx of essays having to with the airport. I dare not add to the mix, but there's a certain sense of mystery, intrigue. I can't help but wonder why they're all here, where they're all going. Are they arriving, departing? Is this home, or just a stop on the way? What is each person's story, each person's family? Their work, their passions? Who are these people, and why are they here? They hurry past, eyes on some invisible goal: a connecting flight, a loved one just outside the gate, a business meeting or job interview. They all have pasts, they all have futures. They're all moving. The young man, only 12, on his first solo flight...or 5th. The elderly couple, holding hands, visiting grandchildren...or maybe a lover's getaway? The man in the suite: here on business, or here for pleasure? All of these things race through my mind. And what do people think of me, sitting alone? What will they think of us when we go to PNG? What will it be like to spend 14 hours on a metal bird with strangers and friends? Airports have so many questions.