Let me get this out of the way: I hate airports. I hate flying. Every time I book a flight, I ask myself, “Why am I doing this again?” Home is cozy. Home is safe. Home has snacks and good Wi-Fi. Instead, I’m paying money — paying money — to sit in a metal tube, 40,000 feet in the air, eating pretzels and pretending I’m not thinking about how unnatural this whole situation is.
And yet… we travel. Because life is short and the world is big and, as much as I hate the process, I love where it leads.
This post is a cathartic rant, a survival guide, and a step-by-step breakdown of the pain and chaos that is modern air travel. If you’ve ever stared at your boarding pass with existential dread, this one’s for you.
Phase 1: Packing & Getting to the Airport
Packing is never fun, but it’s a different beast when you’re leaving your home base. If you’re just hopping between Airbnbs, it’s annoying — but manageable. Leaving your actual apartment? That’s when it feels like you’re packing up your life.
You stress about forgetting something vital. You double-check your passport twelve times. You’re either frantically cleaning to avoid a bad Airbnb review or trying to cram your life into a carry-on and hoping it zips.
Then comes the Uber or taxi ride. Butterflies? Not the good kind. Just a nonstop reel of “What if I hit traffic? What if I miss my flight? What if we crash?” It’s always fine. But your brain doesn’t care.
Pro tip: Stick to that 2-hour-before-domestic / 3-hour-before-international rule. It’s annoying but safer than sprinting through the terminal like you’re in a Bourne movie.
Phase 2: Check-In
Ah, the check-in desk — where dreams go to die.
You’re either looking for your airline in a massive terminal like JFK, dragging your bags, or waiting in line behind someone repacking their suitcase for the third time. You finally make it to the desk, hand over your passport, and pray your checked bag isn’t 0.3kg over the limit.
They slap a tag on your carry-on, maybe weigh it if they’re feeling spicy, and give you your boarding pass. Now you can breathe. Slightly.
Every time I’m in that check-in line, I look over at the smug TSA Pre✓ and Business Class folks breezing through like gods among mortals and think, “One day…” But today is not that day. Today, I suffer.
Phase 3: Security & Border Control
Security is… well, it’s security. The bin ritual never gets less annoying. Shoes off, laptop out, liquids in a plastic bag. TSA barking orders like it’s boot camp.
You’re standing in line at 6 AM with crusty eyes, trying to remember if you left your toothpaste in your bag. The X-ray machine gives you a little cancer zap and you hope your bag doesn’t get flagged for “suspicious scissors.” (RIP to the good pair I once lost.)
If you’re flying international, tack on the border control stress. Another line. Another stamp. Another round of hoping everything is in order.
Pro tip: Always pack an empty water bottle. You can fill it past security and avoid the $6 hydration scam. Yes, I’m still bitter.
Phase 4: Gate Hunting & Airport Survival
Once through security, you enter what I call Airport Limbo.
Now it’s time to find your gate — hopefully, it hasn’t changed. You triple-check the screen, your app, and the little paper boarding pass you folded 12 times in your pocket. If you’re lucky, there’s a seat at the gate. If not, congrats, you’re now sitting on a charging station next to a crying baby.
Airports are like human zoos. There’s a toddler doing parkour off the seats, a guy in a full business suit eating McDonald’s like it’s a Michelin-star meal, and a woman arguing on speakerphone about a cat. It’s chaos. Beautiful, fluorescent-lit chaos.
This is the one brief moment of peace. Text your mom, grab a $6 bottle of water, and try not to think about how dry your mouth is. Something about airports just dehydrates you on a spiritual level.
Use the bathroom now. Trust me.
Phase 5: Boarding
Boarding is a psychological experiment. Do you stand in line early to claim overhead bin space? Or do you sit and wait, only to find yourself doing yoga in the aisle while someone refuses to move their oversized carry-on?
I’m a 75%-through-the-line kind of guy. Not first, not last. Just enough buffer.
💺 Bonus Phase: The Seatmate Lottery
Right after boarding but before takeoff, there’s that moment of suspense: Who’s going to sit next to me? Will it be a chatty extrovert with no sense of personal space? A baby with Olympic lungs? Or will the gods smile upon you with an empty middle seat? It’s the travel equivalent of roulette.
Phase 6: Takeoff Anxiety
You’re in your seat. Bag is stowed. You’ve survived the pre-flight gauntlet.
Now comes the real joy: 45 minutes of inching toward the runway while you calculate crash odds. It’s fine. You’re fine. You’ve done this before. Still, your brain plays a highlight reel of every plane documentary you’ve ever seen.
As the plane picks up speed I suddenly become an amateur aerodynamics expert, whispering, “Okay, here comes V1, we’re committed, don’t chicken out now, big metal bird.” Like I have any control.
Then — liftoff. Smooth takeoff? Great. Bumpy one? Well, guess you’re clenching your armrest for the next hour.
Phase 7: Cruising Altitude
This is the part where things calm down. Maybe.
You sip that free ginger ale, watch a movie, and pretend the baby two rows up isn’t training to be an opera singer. You’ll think about using the airplane bathroom but avoid it at all costs unless it’s an emergency.
🧠 Mental Olympics: In-Flight Time Distortion
Once in the air, time ceases to behave normally. You’ve been flying for what feels like six hours — you check the screen… it’s been 37 minutes. The cruelest kind of sorcery.
Also: “Okay, it’s 3 AM back home, but it’s 9 AM here… does that mean I can eat this pasta now?”
Phase 8: Descent & Landing
The pilot makes the announcement. You brace.
You hope it’s smooth, but there’s always a bit of bouncing and dramatic wind-sway to remind you that yes, you’re still in a giant metal tube.
🛬 Bonus Round: The “Welcome to…” Clap
Can we talk about people clapping when the plane lands? Are we applauding physics? The pilot? The fact that we didn’t explode? It’s always confusing, but somehow endearing. Especially on budget airlines where every landing feels like a minor miracle.
Phase 9: The Exit Gauntlet
Plane lands. Everyone stands at once. Why? No one knows.
You wait. Slowly shuffle forward. Grab your overhead bag without smacking someone in the face (a rare skill), and make your way out.
Then, it’s passport control and baggage claim. If you checked a bag, this is the last test of patience.
🧳 The Baggage Claim Hall of Existential Dread
Maybe your bag will come. Maybe it’s already in Iceland. While you wait, you move through the five stages of grief — denial, bargaining, existential crisis, rage, acceptance. And there’s always that one overly aggressive guy who thinks standing directly against the carousel makes it go faster.
Phase 10: Final Stretch
You’re officially out. One last hurdle: transportation to your accommodation.
Maybe it’s a Bolt, maybe it’s a metro, maybe it’s a cab driver trying to overcharge you. Either way, the finish line is near.
Phase 11: Success!
You made it. You’re at your accommodation. Showered. Fed. Horizontal.
You’ve teleported through time zones and stress zones, and now you’re in a whole new world.
You collapse onto the bed, grateful. And suddenly, the memory of the crying baby, TSA bin shuffle, and that $6 bottle of water fades away… until next time, when you decide to do this all over again for “fun.”
The Small Joys (a.k.a. Mini-Euphoria Moments)
- Getting to the airport on time.
- Checking your bag and getting your ticket without issue.
- Clearing security without your bag being flagged.
- Finding your gate and a decent seat.
- Getting on the plane with no one in the middle seat.
- Smooth takeoff.
- No turbulence.
- Smooth landing.
- Your luggage arrives.
- Leaving the airport and stepping into somewhere completely different.
It’s a wild ride — one we love to hate. But hey, all those stressful steps? They’re just the toll we pay to experience something new.
Now if we could just dim the lighting in the airport a little… that’d be great.
Let’s be real: flying still sucks. But the destination? Worth it every time. If you’re going to endure the airport chaos, you might as well pay less for the privilege.
I use Skyscanner to find cheap flights — mostly so I can afford overpriced airport water and still eat when I land. It scours the internet like a digital travel bloodhound and finds the best deals — no nonsense, no weird fees.
So if you’re ready to brave TSA and embrace the middle-seat lottery again, at least do it smart.
👉 Click here to search flights on Skyscanner
Your wallet (and possibly your chiropractor) will thank you.
Heads up: This is an affiliate link. If you book through it, I may earn a small commission — at no extra cost to you. It helps support this site and my ongoing quest to survive airports without crying.
So yea, thats my take on aviation, airports, the whole 9 yards. Drop a comment down below if you agree or disagree with my take. Thanks for Reading!
