So it’s 5:04. A very romantic hour for a very unromantic place.
I say that because I believe that 5 in the morning is for early morning commuters with busy lives with equally busy smartphones. It’s for late night lovers with groggy smiles and sleep-crusted eyes. It’s quite a diverse hour.
But the airport is probably the least romantic place in the modern world.
Any romance novel, movie, or television show that revolves around plots with airports in the mix are sorely misconstrued. Except for The Terminal. That was a great movie.
I’m boarding the flight soon. And in less than 24 hours, I’ll be leaving behind the land of crying children, plump carry-on luggage, and complimentary drinks. I do love ginger ale. I think I’m the most excited for that.