At EWR

Airports are exciting places. Places where people come and go, where people cry and smile, where people part and reunite.

In the sky, a row of lights lined up along the path of the runway, each bright speck a plane waiting for its clearance to land, each plane filled with hundreds of passengers energized or anxious with the final approach. As the car quietly circled the massive terminal buildings of Newark Liberty International (EWR), I was again filled with that excitement and thrill of being able to board a plane and end up somewhere far, far away a few (…or in this case, almost 20) hours later. It is a great privilege that I enjoy, and that I know many can only dream of.

The EWR has got to be the most hideous and run-down I have ever been to. Strangely so, because numerous four and five star international airlines fly to and from here. The terminal building is poorly lit, the shops and restaurants are few and repetitive, and the security check area—with tired looking staff, simple X-ray machines and metal detectors— resembled something from the pre-911 era. The Underwear Bomber would have had a field day here.

But I am not here to scrutinise the security of one of the US’ important entry points, nor am I here to shop and stuff my bags with even more souvenirs for family, relatives and friends.

I am here to board my plane and begin my long, long journey home. Again.