As ATCKs, various feelings come to mind seeing a photo of an airport. Léti shares with us this week how she navigated feelings from times when she was a child flying, a young adult traveling from home to home, and how, as an adult, the awareness of the world has challenged her thoughts about airports and flying.
Airports: Nostalgia
I recently watched Jesse Eisenberg’s A Real Pain. In the movie, Kieran Culkin’s character, Benji, says that he likes to hang out in airports because “you meet the craziest people here.” Hearing that made me smile. I, too, like many, have a personal relationship with airports and the stories they witness.
My favorite one is in a city I’ve never lived in and have spent very little time in — Madrid-Barajas. It just happens to be the one that I’ve most often had layovers on my way to visit my family in recent years.
Madrid is a European hub for people going to and coming back from the Dominican Republic, where my mother is from. Dominicans and tourists living in Spain, as well as France, Italy, and more, all congregate there to hop on flights to Santo Domingo.
Those trips are always emotional for me, and in the last few years, those emotions have been held in and witnessed by the glass windows and wooden ceilings of Barajas, as I wait for my next flight.
I have a less social approach to airports than the Kieran Culkin character in A Real Pain, but like him, I feel a sense of comfort in walking through the halls and amongst the passengers.
I have memories of speaking on the phone lying on the chaise longue overlooking the tarmac, struggling to stay awake while waiting for the gate to be announced for the last leg of my trip, eating a sad sandwich for lunch on a quiet, empty row of chairs, getting an overpriced coffee in the same spot every time.
My heart beats faster when my ears start recognizing Dominican Spanish as I get closer to the gate for my flight home.
When I am traveling to see friends, airports become a place of excitement and opportunity. When I am traveling home, I always feel nostalgia, which is reassuring because I’ve felt it so many times before. Like many, I missed airports during the pandemic because I missed the people they could take me to.
Airports: A time for grounding
I journal in airports. I travel most often alone, and I love this buffer space where I can process my feelings before or after family reunions and the mix of emotions that comes with visiting a country I am from but have never lived in.
It’s a place where I can gather myself, take stock, think about the time that has passed since the last time I visited, as well as my plans for this upcoming visit, process events, and worries. It is a place where I have a chance to just exist before I have to be anything for anyone else.
I also find comfort in the familiar homogeneity and functionality of airports. As an adult TCK, I have continued moving every 3 or 4 years, and new places might be a bit scary and foreign at first, but at least I know airports. I know how they work, where to find what I need, and the paths to follow.
I love the Madrid-Barajas airport because of where it leads me to, and because I find it particularly easy to navigate. Yet, thinking about it, it’s not like I have truly taken the time to explore the airports I pass through. I do not stray from the indicated paths, and there is probably much I don’t know about how they work.
Airports: Thoughts on awareness
Even if it is a welcome transitory space that I appreciate for giving me time to sit with my feelings, the airport remains a place whose purpose is to guide me through a defined itinerary of consumerism, where I am invited to buy physical things I probably do not need, before delivering me to my gate.
Airports contain my hopes and dreams, but the reason that this is what they mean to me is because I have the privilege of a strong passport and the money to make travel easy. As I’ve matured and understand the world more, I’ve come to realize that airports will mean different things to different people. For instance, the people serving me coffee at 5 a.m. or the people taken there against their will.
I can’t help but think fondly of airports, but the truth is, I would avoid them if I could. My carbon footprint is very high, so my rule for the last few years has been that I will only fly if it is to visit family and friends so close they’re basically family. No more tourism flights for me.
But I know that that’s also a form of privilege. I have family and very close friends in fun places around the world that I get to visit. Does this really justify flying? How much flying, then? I don’t have a satisfying answer to that dilemma.
What I know is that I’ve never lived on the same continent as all the people I love, and I never will. I’ve been enjoying train trips where they’ve been available (I had a great day last summer on the train from the Basque Country to Brittany), but that doesn’t solve the question of transatlantic travel.
So what now? A compromise on my principles for the sake of my mental health (since it’s important for me to see family and close friends regularly). Until I find a better solution, I’ll keep striving to keep my flights to a minimum. And when I do fly, I’ll keep checking my privilege and I’ll keep journaling in airports.
Bio: Léti has a French father and a Dominican-Belgian-French mother. They grew up in France, Mali, and Quebec, and later lived in Paris and Lyons in France, the Bay Area, New York, and London, UK as an adult. They wrote this piece as they were about to move to Montreal (for the second time!). Léti is a book-lover, crafter, crocheter, and writer. You can find Léti on Instagram.
