Matt and I are midway through a five-hour stop at the Toronto Airport. “Didn’t they mention they were headed south?” you might ask. “Why fly through Canada?” It’s a good question—and one the customs agent asked.
We are headed to Chile, but stopping through Toronto was not much longer and much cheaper than flying through a more direct location. Our trip is not close to half way over; we face a 10-hour flight, scheduled to land in Santiago mid-morning tomorrow. It is the second-longest trip (total travel time) I’ve ever taken.
In the meantime, you can’t beat hanging out in another country, and a Canadian airport falls into that category today. Neither Matt nor I have been to Toronto before, and the flight in was beautiful. Add in foreign cell phone brands, a few extra languages, people watching, and staring at the departures board dreaming of trips to Tel Aviv, Dublin, and Beijing, and you have an entertaining evening.
Even if that weren’t the case, when you are overbooked in life for any period of time, 17 hours of forced relaxation is not a bad prospect. I think I could stare at the wall for most of it, but I do have an hour of Internet, a 600-page novel, and laptop power under my chair (how lucky are we to find a plug at an airport). I suspect that I will sleep well tonight, even sitting up straight in a narrow seat.