Next Stop: My True Self in South Korea

It is where east meets west; where poverty meets wealth; where hello’s meet goodbye’s; where departures meet arrivals; where duty-free luxury gifts meet hideaway persons of sex trafficking. It, is the airport. It, is also the place where I most feel free to be myself.

As harrowing as it may be for some to sit still while waiting to board the aircraft and officially begin their trips, I have always found airports intriguing. It is at the airport that my sense of identity solidifies as I realize at once the bigness, yet also the smallness of the world; watching fellow travelers whiz me by, reading the destinations written on each of the departure gate screens and surveying the sort of people waiting patiently at each gate, I can dare to imagine what Abu Dhabi, Munich, and Buenos Aires look like. The cognizance that all countries are but mere plane rides away reminds me that far need not feel so far –we all look at the same side of the moon after all. As I witness also the joyful The Notebook-like reunions of some, as well as the reluctant and tearful farewells of others, I find myself thinking time and again that though we may not look alike, people are not so different.

The opportunity to glimpse into other travelers’ moments of intimacy and vulnerability releases me from my usual facet of stoicism. Having grown up in Korea, a country with a people born and raised by pitiless competitiveness, I had learned to protect myself by blocking out emotions. Emotions were perceived as signs of weaknesses, and whoever had them were considered lacking for whatever task was on the line – and something was always, always on the line. Even within my immediate family, demonstrations of affection are not commonplace. Not atypical of most other Korean or Asian families, my parents express their love through criticism and intense micromanaging. In a way then, airports also remind me of the smallness of not only the world, but also of my own world.

One airport encounter in particular may help delineate why I most feel free to be myself at airports. Once, en route from the US to Korea, I had a brief layover at the Heathrow Airport in London. What excitement I initially felt about visiting a new airport disappeared however when I realized that the airport’s terminals were not only located miles away from one another, but also that there were never any clear directions regarding how to go from one terminal to another with no two airport personnel relaying the same directions. The attendant at the information desk told me to just ride the airport bus to the next terminal, but when I arrived at the bus stop and asked the flight attendant also waiting, she told me I had to purchase a special transportation card in order to board the bus. That sent me running from one end of the terminal to another to find the booth where I could purchase the transportation card, only to discover after asking a third airport employee that bus rides between airport terminals were free of charge. Exhausted, I hurried back to the same bus stop and asked a man standing in line to double check that I did not need a card to board. Smiling sheepishly, he replied that he wasn’t sure either but that yes, it should probably be free. It turned out that he was due on a flight to the Philippines at the same terminal just 10 minutes after mine boarded for Korea. En route to the terminal, we shared about each others’ lives; he was a hand on a ship for 10 months at a time. With each stop the bus made that was not our terminal, we both hyperventilated slightly, then calmed each other down. And when we finally arrived at our terminal, we both stared down the screen listing the specific departure gates but instead of finding our own first, found the other’s. I had to restrain myself from asking for an email address when we finally parted; I lamented that we would never again meet. Throughout it all, I was surprised at myself for being able to open up and feel so connected with a stranger. It all makes sense now however – the airport had done it.

Even elsewhere in the world, where can one witness or feel raw emotions if not at the airport? The airport is unique in that individuals in it do not as strictly seem to allow their surroundings to suppress their heartfelt expressions. And the airport is unique to me in that it is a place where I can truly let myself, be myself.

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