There’s a very clever, poignant song written by Kazuo Ishiguro during the pandemic. It’s called something like “I wish I could go traveling again.” Sung by Stacey Kent, it details the little and big inconveniences of travel and the intense longing for each annoying one, in a time when we all thought the world might end.
So when I got the text saying my flight was delayed two hours, I’m like: Who Cares!!!! Great!! More time at the airport!! (Okay, full disclosure I have an airport lounge membership and Virgin Atlantic even has little beds- I highly recommend.) But I swear, even if I was on a bench seat next to a crying child or having a beer in a not-so-clean mug in the “Irish Pub” I walked past, I still wouldn’t care because I’M FLYING!!
During the pandemic, and after open heart surgery, I truly thought I would never go anywhere again. The day after 9/11 when I lay in bed hearing fighter jets fly over, I thought the same thing.
But here I am and here we are. JFK is packed. And TSA is just as rude and obnoxious as they have ever been. Thank god.
Virgin Atlantic Clubhouse and me.
Godspeed to my friend on what I hope will be a successfully cathartic trip. You deserve it.