As I prepare for my next trip in a few days, I find myself reflecting on some of my favorite parts of travel. I’m not one of those people who hates air travel or the logistics of a big trip; I actually really enjoy the planning stage. I love the research and the creativity it requires. To quote John "Hannibal" Smith from the 80s television show The A-Team, “I love it when a plan comes together.” Hannibal knew the satisfaction of seeing well-laid plans come to fruition. So, when I stand on the precipice of a well-planned trip—hotels booked, train tickets secured, bags packed—I finally find the time to think about my love for travel. Not just the planning, but the doing.
One of my favorite moments of any trip is when I slip into the taxi and head to the airport. It feels like the ultimate moment of freedom—untethered from the life left behind and facing forward into the vast, unknown possibilities of the road ahead. It is the exact moment when all the days to come are fixed on a trajectory of discovery and excitement, the dividing point between life at home and life on the road. The taxi door closes, and you see your front door, your house, and your neighborhood slide into memory as a new vantage of the world unfolds from the back seat.
Soon, the airport comes into view: first the control tower, then the tails of the planes, and finally the endless parking lots filled with the cars of other adventurers, all moored to the dock of their lives at home. Then it’s goodbye to the driver and goodbye to the city, and hello to the gate attendant and the person occupying the seat next to you. As you feel the pull of the airplane gathering speed for takeoff, you know you’ve crossed the point of no return.
There is no turning back now. I watch the city I live in drop below me, spotting familiar landmarks like bridges and buildings that offer the last visual confirmation of the life I’m breaking free from. A few minutes later, there are no more familiar visual cues of home. Everything has become new and refreshed.
I love travel. I love flying, packing my bags, exploring airports, and simply existing in the space between "here and there." I travel to see the new “here”—to create a temporary "here" somewhere else for a while. That feeling of excitement never gets old. I travel for many reasons; I relish seeing new places and discovering worlds I’ve only ever read about or seen in movies and YouTube videos. I love putting my own hands and eyes on the world.
Growing up in a small farming community far away from a big city, I had never even met anyone with a passport until I was in my twenties. I used to read about places like Paris, France or Bangkok, Thailand, and my head would fill with imagination about what those far-away, exotic places must be like. When I grew experienced enough to venture out into the world on my own, I wanted to see those places. I wanted to make them real.
If you see something like the Eiffel Tower your whole life in pictures and films, and then one day find yourself at the very top of it looking down on Paris—running your hands across the painted iron and touching the rivets that hold it together—the Eiffel Tower becomes yours. You carry that experience with you in your head and heart forever. Your life and the life of the Eiffel Tower now share a narrative, and that changes you.
One of the greatest surprises of extensive travel is how much you are shaped by your experiences and the people you meet, provided you allow yourself to be affected. These days, when I pack my bag and board a plane, there are so many more places I bring along with me. In my opinion, one of the most noble endeavors of the human experience is the search for the real—to make the world a part of you, and to make yourself a part of it. Nothing very interesting happens alone in your living room. To fully take advantage of the spark of awareness we have been given—having been plucked out of the nothingness with the gift to be open-eyed, to be the universe’s own eyes and ears on itself—is an amazing opportunity not to be missed.
So, here I am again on the precipice of a trip. It is well-planned, and it certainly won't go perfectly, but I will return home with more of the world under the ownership of my own experience.
You are now free to move about the cabin!
One of my favorite moments of any trip is when I slip into the taxi and head to the airport. It feels like the ultimate moment of freedom—untethered from the life left behind and facing forward into the vast, unknown possibilities of the road ahead. It is the exact moment when all the days to come are fixed on a trajectory of discovery and excitement, the dividing point between life at home and life on the road. The taxi door closes, and you see your front door, your house, and your neighborhood slide into memory as a new vantage of the world unfolds from the back seat.
Soon, the airport comes into view: first the control tower, then the tails of the planes, and finally the endless parking lots filled with the cars of other adventurers, all moored to the dock of their lives at home. Then it’s goodbye to the driver and goodbye to the city, and hello to the gate attendant and the person occupying the seat next to you. As you feel the pull of the airplane gathering speed for takeoff, you know you’ve crossed the point of no return.
There is no turning back now. I watch the city I live in drop below me, spotting familiar landmarks like bridges and buildings that offer the last visual confirmation of the life I’m breaking free from. A few minutes later, there are no more familiar visual cues of home. Everything has become new and refreshed.
I love travel. I love flying, packing my bags, exploring airports, and simply existing in the space between "here and there." I travel to see the new “here”—to create a temporary "here" somewhere else for a while. That feeling of excitement never gets old. I travel for many reasons; I relish seeing new places and discovering worlds I’ve only ever read about or seen in movies and YouTube videos. I love putting my own hands and eyes on the world.
Growing up in a small farming community far away from a big city, I had never even met anyone with a passport until I was in my twenties. I used to read about places like Paris, France or Bangkok, Thailand, and my head would fill with imagination about what those far-away, exotic places must be like. When I grew experienced enough to venture out into the world on my own, I wanted to see those places. I wanted to make them real.
If you see something like the Eiffel Tower your whole life in pictures and films, and then one day find yourself at the very top of it looking down on Paris—running your hands across the painted iron and touching the rivets that hold it together—the Eiffel Tower becomes yours. You carry that experience with you in your head and heart forever. Your life and the life of the Eiffel Tower now share a narrative, and that changes you.
One of the greatest surprises of extensive travel is how much you are shaped by your experiences and the people you meet, provided you allow yourself to be affected. These days, when I pack my bag and board a plane, there are so many more places I bring along with me. In my opinion, one of the most noble endeavors of the human experience is the search for the real—to make the world a part of you, and to make yourself a part of it. Nothing very interesting happens alone in your living room. To fully take advantage of the spark of awareness we have been given—having been plucked out of the nothingness with the gift to be open-eyed, to be the universe’s own eyes and ears on itself—is an amazing opportunity not to be missed.
So, here I am again on the precipice of a trip. It is well-planned, and it certainly won't go perfectly, but I will return home with more of the world under the ownership of my own experience.
You are now free to move about the cabin!
