I Hate Travel

Mostly, I hate airports. One, I’m always “randomly” selected for a bomb check (I blame my nose) and two, I am stingy. Meaning, I buy cheap flights on whim thinking, “yeah no big deal,” then comes to flying, and I have 5 flights from France to Nashville (sigh). Big sigh. Here are some “travel” photos.

You know… the airport is the only place you can walk around with no shoes, a glazed look on your face, and sleep on the benches and no one judges you. (Coriander Woodruff, The Call of the Spectacled Owl)

Had a million things to say and none I knew how. I stepped forward and kissed him, like people kiss at airports, full of love and desperate longing, kisses that must imprint themselves on their recipient for the journey, for the weeks, the months ahead. (Jojo Moyes, After You)

Or the woman in front of me in the security line who asked if they would put her cat, Dave, through the luggage X-ray machine because she wanted to see if he’d eaten a necklace. (Jenny Lawson, Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things)

People who meet in airports are seventy-two percent more likely to fall for each other than people who meet anywhere else. (Jennifer E. Smith, The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight)

Did you ever notice that the first piece of luggage on the carousel never belongs to anyone? (Erma Bombeck)