When I was a kid my family camped a lot when we traveled and my folks liked stopping for the night about 4pm every day to “beat the rush” but I think it was most likely because we liked watching the other folks come in.

My mom would make up stories about each arriving family, spinning tales about the lives they led.

I always enjoyed these stories and I find myself doing that a lot in my own travels. Silently, of course, as I’ve discovered that most folks aren’t interested in hearing made-up stories about people they don’t know.

It’s the same in airports. I always wonder what has compelled each person to get on a plane that day. Is it a joyful excursion or are they filled with dread for what awaits on the other end? Or is it something in-between the two extremes and quite mundane?

Thanks for another wonderful post, Hilton. I’ll be viewing life around me with a different eye from now on.

Marty