As soon as check-in and the security drill are behind me, I enter the gateway to adventure; an airport terminal, a hub of possibilities. Unless I have arrived at the absolute last minute, I can now relax and explore. Even if it’s the same airport I’ve visited a dozen times before, I need to walk the concourses. Who knows, maybe something had changed. And then the itch appears; the need to buy something. I know that the prices are sky-high, and that I don’t really need anything, yet there’s a nagging feeling, like this opportunity to spend my hard-earned money on some useless items would never return.
“Hmm… let’s see; I really need a new pair of earphones, those sunglasses are just me,” and if none of these will do, it’s a $5 water bottle with H2O collected by Buddhist monks in the Himalayas, somewhere between Shangri-La and the fat bank account of a soft drinks company I will not mention by name. But worry not; a whole 20 cents of the handsome price will go to a charity of their choice.
There is something about travel, be it en-route, at the airport, or at the port of destination that seems to loosen up the careful spender in us. As if once away from our familiar environment all bets are off. We pay more, get less, and then pay extra for luggage overweight so we can schlep it back home. It is all very sensible in an irrational sort of way.
Learned from: self-observation as well as observing others at the airport.
P.S. As for myself, I ended up buying a medium size Jamba Juice for $6. A real find.