It is said that about 12–14 million passengers travel through airports globally every single day.
Not hundreds.
Not thousands.
Millions.
Millions of people, from all walks of life, all going somewhere for completely different reasons.
And for a brief moment, all of us exist in the same kind of space — this temporary in-between called the airport.
No one really belongs there, but somehow, everyone does.
Some people are travelling for love.
Some for work.
Some are leaving something behind — a breakup, a life, a version of themselves.
Others are running toward something new.
And every single one of them is carrying something you cannot see.
I think that’s why airports feel so intense to me.
They’re never just buildings. They’re full of emotion.
I’ve had my own fair share of airport moments.
Some exciting.
Some awkward.
Some quietly overwhelming.
And somehow, each one has stayed with me in a very specific way.
O. R. Tambo International Airport has always felt… familiar.
Even though it’s in a different country, it feels close to home. After a long trip, especially outside the continent, it feels like putting on a comfortable winter sweater.
It’s the airport where I stop overthinking.
Where things just make sense.
The staff are usually warm, sometimes even chatty, and there’s something grounding about that.
But even there, I’ve had my moments.
Like the first time I travelled to England. I had only a small carry-on suitcase, and somehow that became a problem.
I got flagged and couldn’t go through transfers because I didn’t have enough luggage.
Yes. Not enough luggage.
Apparently, being a young woman travelling alone to the UK meant I should have had more bags.
I don’t even remember how I got through in the end, but I do remember how unnecessary and stressful that moment felt — especially when I was already nervous.
Then there’s Heathrow Airport.
Big. Busy. Slightly intimidating.
The first time I went through it, I felt like a small girl in a very big world. Luckily, I had someone who had drawn me a literal map of where to go, step by step, so I just followed it like my life depended on it.
But Heathrow also gave me one of my most defining little moments.
The first time I ever flew business class.
I had no idea how to act.
Even with all the instructions, I still queued in the general line for about 15 minutes because I felt too shy — almost like I didn’t belong in the priority line.
Eventually, I gathered the courage and moved.
And then… a man taps me on the shoulder.
A random man.
He points me back to the general queue.
I looked at him, paused, and said,
“I think I have the right line.”
And that was that.
To this day, I don’t know if he was trying to help or if he thought I didn’t belong there.
But weirdly, that moment gave me confidence.
It forced me to stand in something I had already earned.
And then there’s Istanbul Airport.
This one?
Overwhelming.
It’s massive. Like… unnecessarily massive.
Walking from one gate to another feels like you’re travelling between cities.
On my last trip, I had a very heavy bag and not a single trolley in sight.
It was the middle of the night.
I was exhausted.
And I still had to walk what felt like kilometres to get to my gate.
At some point, I genuinely felt like I might cry.
But there was no option.
You just keep walking.
Because that’s the thing about airports —
you always have to keep going.
I don’t think airports will ever be my favourite places, especially when I have to spend long hours in them.
But I’ve come to realise this:
They are never just about travel.
They are about transitions.
They are about becoming.
Every time I sit at a gate, I find myself wondering —
Who am I when I land?
Because somehow, every journey changes something.
Even if it’s just a little.
Lessons I Took With Me
1. You don’t always feel like you belong — but that doesn’t mean you don’t
Sometimes confidence comes after the moment, not before it.
2. Travel is not just movement — it’s emotional
Airports hold more than people; they hold stories, endings, and beginnings.
3. You can feel overwhelmed and still move forward
Even when you’re tired, lost, or unsure — you keep walking, and somehow you get there.
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