A Writer Reflects On The Peculiar Freedom Of Transit Mode

THERE’S A MOMENT AT THE AIRPORT, WHEN—VERY BRIEFLY—THE WHOLE world (or at least the cities served by the airport you’re in) seems within reach. You may be scanning the departures board for details on your flight, but there’s the thought, that if you disregarded the rules, the security protocol and the need for visas—you could hop onto that direct flight to New York or take the much-needed break and visit your friend who’s been working in Singapore.

On that screen, the world appears smaller, and since you’re stuck in the in-between—waiting for a flight, waiting to set foot in a new city, waiting to get back to your routine (workout, work or just sticking to that intermittent fasting schedule) in a different setting—there’s a frisson of possibility in the air. You let your mind wander and wonder—would it be nicer to escape to cold and grey London instead of getting on your flight to Delhi, where the sun is beating down with no respite. Or what of your dream to watch Carlos Alcaraz win another French Open, as you hear the boarding announcement for Paris.

Airports are the bane of frequent travellers—antiseptic and often a never-ending vista of glass, concrete and chrome. Often considered a kind of purgatory—where you’re meant to wait (and encouraged to shop) before getting to board your flight, they’re not the kind of building where anyone enjoys spending time. But it’s precisely because of their liminality that airports feel like the kind of place where you can imagine your best selves, while sometimes indulging your worst self. Where else can you drink a beer at 11am and not be met with judgemental stares as you wait for your next flight. In the terminal, everything seems possible. New habits seem easier to form so it’s time to finally sit down and try that Wim Hof breathing technique you’ve been meaning to or bring out the journal and start jotting down your thoughts.

Because in addition to imagining a new you in a new location, it’s also the space in which optimism takes hold. It’s easier to try and be healthier, more productive or more fulfilled. The version of yourself that briefly seems attainable because you chose the yogurt and granola to snack on instead of that fried chicken sandwich, simply because you’re making a decision in between the bigger moments of life. It’s also the place where you can put headphones on, cue up that podcast or audiobook and walk up and down the length of the terminal, or just take rounds of the shops and cafes—to get that step count over 10k.

On that circuit through the terminal, or when you finally make your way to the departure gate, you take in the destinations announced above each airway bridge. Once again, that sense of escape and imagination takes hold. After all, it’s easier to picture a better self in a new city, untouched by the baggage of your current one. That school admission grind, the quarterly review awaiting your approval, even your workout plan—everything suddenly feels easier to shed when you arrive somewhere new. Didn’t you want to go to Rishikesh and write a book? Or get that PADI certification in the Andamans? What about travelling to eat at Noma before it shuts down? The possibilities are endless.

Walking along with you, past stores and under the ever-present white light, are a cross section of people across ages, cultures and reasons for visiting. There are the backpackers with their travel pillows hanging off their rucksacks and then there’s the group of girls making Reels with Labubus hanging off their handbags. Look around and you’ll see kids glued to screens while their parents say their goodbyes, and others with their faces pressed to the glass, watching planes rise and land.

So, as a plane takes off for Doha, and another’s on its way to Zurich—you’re working on being your best self. You imagine the lives of the family queuing for Ho Chi Minh City, and wonder if that businessman is headed to Zurich for the first time or the umpteenth. Everyone has a story, and at the airport you actually have the time to imagine the narratives and lives of those around you. It’s a place to slow down and choose where and how to give your attention. Sure, there are emails, video calls and family updates—but here, time loosens its grip, and there’s only one deadline that matters: your boarding call.

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