Adventures in… Airports
What’s your favourite Christmas film? Yes, that is a strange question to ask in July, but bear with me. Locked down this Christmas, I took the time to reacquaint myself with the classics. Home Alone stands the test of time. (Watch this for a giggle.) The Channel 5 matinee movie, A Boyfriend for Christmas, not so much. For anyone who knows me well, however, it should come as no surprise that my favourite Christmas film is the cheesiest, most sentimental of the lot: It’s A Wonderful Life. I find it completely life-affirming and I always cry, even if it does feature some elements which definitely don’t fly in 2021. The reason I love it so much is because of George Bailey, as played by Jimmy Stewart, who has charisma dripping from every pore and who will forever be my number one black-and-white crush.
George is a man with itchy feet. He dreams of exploration and adventure, of getting away from the small town where he grew up and seeing the world. Early on, he says that the three most exciting sounds in the world are “anchor chains, plane motors and train whistles”. I haven’t heard a Virgin Train whistle for a while, but oh boy, I relate. I guess the equivalent sound for us is, “Have you got any sharp objects in your hand luggage?”. These words promise something different and, if you can get past the overpriced snacks and the shelves full of everything you never needed at prices you can’t afford, an airport is a portal to another world. On the plane, you exist outside time. Nobody can reach you and there is nothing to do except watch action films (a guilty pleasure), drink extremely strong G&Ts and anticipate everything that is to come. Of course, it will never be like you expect it will. That’s the whole point.
I first travelled alone back when I was 19, when I hopped on a plane to India during my gap YAH to find out more about half of my heritage and to eat chapatti with every meal. My family saw me off at the airport. “Just be careful, Amy,” my mum said, looking a little anxious. “By the way, your backpack is open.” Stuffing my passport and tickets back into the bag and zipping it up, pretending I knew what I was doing, I kissed them goodbye. I came back four months later, a little less green, a little more tanned, wondering when the next adventure would be.
Since then, I’ve been fortunate enough to travel quite a bit. Airports still remain a great source of stories. There was the time I flew back from Tanzania with a 12-hour stopover in Addis Ababa. (Addis is the worst airport in the world. I reckon I’ve wasted days of my life there.) I had packed my red sleeping bag into my hand luggage and at 11pm, I dutifully unravelled it and settled in for a long night on the cold plastic chairs. Every twenty minutes or so, I would jerk awake, convinced I had missed my flight. Oh no, still ten hours to go. Around 4 in the morning, I was woken by a young man who smiled down at me.
“Hello,” he said. I wiped the sleep drool from my mouth and found my backpack still safely looped under my head.
“What is it?” I asked. “Have I missed my flight?”
“No, madam. I want to know if you would like to buy some diamonds.”
“Oh.” I was bewildered, but the conditioned English politeness kicked in. “I would like to but I’m afraid I don’t have any money left. So no. No, thank you.” I fell back to sleep and woke later, wondering whether it had been a dream. After a fitful sleep and a middle of the night jewellery proposition, I stumbled over to the Ethiopian Airlines information desk.
“Please could I have some breakfast? I don’t have any currency.” (This was in the days before I had a functioning credit card.)
“Of course, madam. But why didn’t you take breakfast in your hotel?” It turned out I had passed a night on plastic chairs for nothing. They felt so sorry for me they loaded me up with extra breakfast vouchers. I think I cried into my scrambled eggs. Ah, memories.
And now, another plane awaits, as I’ll be flying back to the UK for the first time in 18 months in a couple of weeks. I can’t wait for that liminal time between countries, before I get home to my family and friends and to Wagamama, Nando’s and proper fish & chips. (If you don’t plan your whole trip around food, are you even a person?) I’ll be putting this newsletter on pause until September, when I’ll be back with more adventures and advice. Happy holidays to all. Oh and by the way, George Bailey never went anywhere. I suppose it wouldn’t have been much of a film if he had, but he definitely deserved that round-the-world trip. Sorry George.
Great reads this week
· I loved this piece about the history of caffeine in The Guardian, even though I don’t drink coffee. It’s pretty interesting to consider how things might be different if we had stuck with beer rather than coffee as our daily drink.
· I can’t get enough of Alok’s poetry and activism and basically everything they do. They are an artist, an icon and I want pretty much everything they wear.
· I’m really enjoying listening to Set My Heart To Five by Simon Stephenson on Audible. It is a funny take on life in 2054, as narrated by a bot called Jared who suddenly starts to develop feelings.
Ask Amy is on pause because I’ve run out of questions! I’ll gather some more during August and be back with the advice column in September. Please do drop me a line if you need some advice. It is anonymous, of course.
More advice columns are available on my Substack and on my website.