Chew Gum During Takeoff, It Makes Your Ears Pop.

It's a foggy day. I'm waiting in the airport for my flight. Hopefully it won't be delayed because of the fog. I don't think it will, but who knows, it might be for some odd chance. I don't want to wait here any longer than I have to. I don't really like airports. The people. The interactions. I don't know, I find it all kind of bile in some weird way. 

Maybe it all the mothers and fathers and little children crying. It's just so, weak. They're travelling for the holidays, uniting in family bonds, creating friendships and kin ships, yet their flying to their destination. It's so impersonal. Flights don't allow for bondage. They don't allow for those embarrassing family sing-a-longs, quirky travel games, or secret conversations about how Mary Jo isn't really who you think she is. 

Flights put that distance between people. Allow to families to revert to headphones, portable DVD players, laptops, and word puzzles. There's no communication. It's just distance. I suppose I'm bitter, and I suppose one might call me a hypocrite because I'm flying myself. Well, firstly, I'm not travelling as a family. I am a single person, so a good bout of flight and introspection is okay for me. Secondly, I am bitter. 

When I was a child, my family (my mother) and I would travel everywhere via automobile. No matter the distance. The drive, it was the adventure. Across country or just down the road, those moments in the front seat of that old Volvo wagon are the ones I still remember. The ones I will always remember. 

So what can I assume about children of the modern era, the ones born of flight and fancy? Well, naturally, I suppose they won't remember much of their childhoods. 

Too bad.