After too long a hiatus, some newcomers finally made their way into my passport.
I had missed travel. But my last venture out of the country (in April 2008!) had become such a distant memory, I had forgotten what I was really missing. The longing was theoretical.
It didn't take much to refresh my memory. I had barely alighted from the shuttle van onto the departure curb at Terminal 2 of LAX when the nervous excitement welled up. The hustle of the airport at 5am. The coiled queues for passengers checking luggage. The non-existent queue for those not checking luggage. The x-ray machines. The security checkpoints. The screens flashing departures. Polite smiles and greetings of total and relative strangers, some of whom will be by my side for the next several hours, some of whom will share most of my waking moments for the next two weeks.
Will the airline personnel approve my backpack as a carry-on, or will it turn out to be overweight? Will I get an aisle seat? Will I get any special attention at the security checkpoint? Will the flight leave on time? Will I sleep? What movies will I watch? Will I catch the connecting flight? What will it be like at the next stage, and the one after that? What about 20 hours from now, when at last I arrive at the final destination? And of the 10 days thereafter - what awaits me there? Will I meet anyone interesting? Will I meet God? What will I see and smell and touch? What will I eat?!
In my everyday life, most sentences end at a period or full stop, and I rarely look forward with any enthusiasm to the answers to the occasional question. But when I'm on the road, the map is littered with questions, and unraveling the answers is the whole adventure.
