Flying Again

On being in an airport again, the most beautiful of liminal spaces.

A few weeks ago I did something I have not done for 15 months: Leave New York state. This is certainly not, like, a brag about how much I punished and restricted myself to adhere to evolving and unofficially COVID-19 guidance since March 2020 — I’ve spent a lot of time traveling to different parts of New York State, especially since I got vaccinated — I just didn’t really have a reason to travel anywhere else until now. But Chase’s friends were getting married outside of Atlanta so to Atlanta we went.

I don’t fly often. I’m not afraid of it, and I’m not bad at it (there are bad flyers, I think, in the sense that some people who can just don’t know how to keep it moving in the airport, or can’t follow directions to remove their laptop from their carry on at TSA, or whatever). I just don’t go to that many places that necessitate air travel. I think I can list all the places I’ve flown to:

• Disney World, 2001
• Spain, 2012
• London, 2012
• Back to the US at the end of my semester abroad, 2012
• California, three times between 2016–2018
• Las Vegas, 2016 (For CES, which I can’t for the life of me understand why I attended. Yes I was a tech reporter. No, I don’t care about the latest in smart fridge technology. We exist!)
• Italy, 2018