I, I'm A Little Divided

I love airports. I was pondering that this morning on my way to work. Crawling along like a wee slug in traffic and watching the jet planes overhead. I adore airports. You could blindfold me, block out all sound and drop me in an airport, any airport, and I'd know where I was the instant I smelled the inside of the place.

They all smell the same. Jet fuel, recirculated air with a hint of swamp cooler, and loads of hyped up humanity. LOVE IT!

You don't have to be Freud to figure it out. I LOATHE this state and have since I got dumped here by my dying on the vine of groovy ex hippy parents. That was 1978. They turned to the dark side shortly after and become yuppies in the 80's. Mom got a Bimmer with a personalized license plate. On the 20th anniversary of Woodstock no less. Ouch. Did I mention the car was grey? Groovy color, eh?

I love airports because they represent running away from a place I have always hated. Even when I am coming back to Oregon, I still love the airport. It gave me a window to the outside world, even if only for a bit.

And yes I could have used Learning To Fly for the title snippet, but it just seemed so done, ya know?