I’m sitting in the Dublin airport, in a prescreening area. About ready to fly to Milan. A seemingly homeless man asked if he can sit down next to me.

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He sat on the edge of his chair for about an hour as he rocked back and forth in excitement about every plane that landed and took off. I loved watching his excitement as each plane came and left. I immediately felt exactly his excitement. 

I love traveling. Even more so, I love flying. And I especially love the airport. Any airport. No matter how small or big. I love the smell of jet fuel, the sights of a massive piece of machinery coming in from a foreign land, being smashed into a seat that no human should sit in for more than 5 minutes, the excitement of what kind of lousy food they’ll be serving...for $12. 

The feeling of getting on a plane to visit friends or experience a new city. 

This stranger next to me doesn’t have a ticket. He got a ride into the airport today to watch the planes land and take off.

I would do the exact same thing. Really…I’m doing the exact same thing.

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