Sitting in the Taipei airport at 5:30 in the morning.
As one does.
Hong Kong Airport is not exactly jumping on a Saturday night. Or a Friday night. Whatever night this is. I think it’s a few minutes into the 28th. That’s Saturday, right? Whatever.
Anyway, I don’t know what I’m going to do for the rest of the night. I can’t check in until afternoon. I have my Octopus Card, though, so I can go pretty much anywhere. The sky’s my oyster!
UPDATE: The trains do not, in fact, run all night, as I was for some reason thinking. So unless I want to pay extra for a taxi to go somewhere else and hang around in the middle of the night, it looks like I’m here for a few more hours, drinking flat whites, charging my iPad, and reading the Economist’s World in 2014.
The SeaTac Airport Central Terminal was renovated and expanded in 2005. It has numerous shops and restaurants, a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the runway and the Olympic Mountains*, and plenty of space to sit or walk around.
But I’m not in the Central Terminal. I’m in the South Satellite Terminal. The Runway Grill looks like it might be my best lunch option.
* Not that you can see them most of the time.
I am no longer at the Columbus airport.
At the Columbus airport again.
So it goes.
Now I’m in the Columbus airport.
I’m in the Phoenix airport.
Last day today. Checked out, took some pictures at St. Helier’s Bay, got a tall flat white at Starbucks, parked downtown, wandered around, did the SkyJump two more times, wandered around some more, had fish & chips at the Occidental Cafe (formerly the Occidental Hotel, built in 1870), wandered around some more, got some gelato at the ferry building, and took the rental car back. Now I’m at the airport with three hours to kill. My flight has a status of “Relax.”
The first time through the Christchurch airport, I heard someone paged to go to the chicken desk. Much of the surrounding area consists of farms and ranches, but why they would have a special desk related to poultry was unclear.
When I came back to Christchurch, I heard it again, but now I’m a little more used to Kiwi vowels. It’s the check-in desk.
Which is, incidentally, down the steers and to the lift.