There’s something really interesting about airports and the people in it. I rarely get bored by waiting as I usually watch people and how they move.
Inside my head, I form stories of people – who are they with and why are they traveling? There are europeans with their big backpacks running around looking for their boarding gate as if they’re part of Amazing Race. With the size of their bags, they most likely would couch surf or travel from one island to another. There are asian families who I assume are traveling to the PH for the first time. The kids are crying and the moms are chatting. There are Americans who look excited and anxious – “what’s in this small Philippine island?” they might ask. There are Pinoys who just wanna go home to check on their parents and lolos and lolas. There are those lone travelers seated near the glass walls of the airport forming a dramatic silhouette against the sun light. Either they are explorers, or doing soul-searching. And then there’s me who quietly stares at people, carefully watching them and I assume forming made up stories of their own.
I always wonder, what stories they come up with when they look at me? Who am I in their heads?