I Miss Flying & All the Little Things About Travel

Earlier this week, I stood on a small hill near home. Nothing impressive. Just a slope high enough to stop, look down, and pretend, for a moment, that I was flying.

And suddenly, I remembered the pandemic.

I remembered how standing on any elevated ground felt like freedom back then. How the world had shrunk into neighbourhood walks and makeshift views. Flying wasn’t just impossible. It felt like something from a past life.

I miss flying.

I remember during the pandemic how I tried to recall what flying actually felt like. Economy class. Window seat. A thin airline blanket pulled up to my waist. The steady hum of the engine. It amazed me how quickly those sensations faded when airports disappeared from our lives.

I remember missing flying long before planes returned.

I missed even the dull parts of it. The hours before boarding that dragged on forever. Wandering around airports with nothing to do. Spraying overpriced perfume samples. Buying coffee that was far too expensive for what it was. Sitting on cold metal benches at NAIA, legs stretched out, waiting through delays that felt endless.

Before everything stopped, I hated the inconveniences of travel. Digging my passport out of a pretty but useless cover. Locking eyes with immigration officers. Watching other passengers struggle with overpacked carry ons.

I really miss boarding planes.

During the pandemic, all of that became something I longed for.

I remember thinking how I would gladly take the delays, the crowds, even the seat kickers, if it meant stepping into an airport again.

The last international flight I took before the pandemic still sits clearly in my memory. At the time, I dreaded the layovers. Now, I remember being grateful for them. Airports became places I dreamed about visiting, even without a boarding pass. Just a cup of coffee, a book, and the quiet thrill of waiting for a plane to arrive would have been enough.

Also read: Forget Plane Rides — I Miss Bus Trips More Than Anything

We live in a time of travel desperation.

I really missed boarding planes.

I remember missing the sound of suitcases rolling along jet bridges. The awkward lifting of luggage up airstair on windy days. Looking out the window at clouds or at the wing when I picked the wrong seat. Flipping through safety cards and airline magazines I never actually read. Smiling at flight attendants and kind looking strangers.

I even missed airplane food. Choosing between fish, beef, or chicken. Opening the meal tray with unnecessary excitement. Walking unsteadily down the aisle to the bathroom, then rushing back when the seatbelt sign flicked on too early.

Back then, the longing felt universal. We scrolled through old travel photos, trying to relive spontaneous trips and budget flights that once felt endless. Passports sat untouched, reduced to valid IDs instead of tickets to somewhere else.

All this said, I know that yearning to travel is a privilege.

I remember during the pandemic how I was granted a multiple entry visa to Japan, just weeks before everything shut down. I applied on a whim with a colleague who had never been granted a visa before. We both got approved. We celebrated with an unnecessarily expensive lunch, unaware it would be our quiet farewell to normal life.

That visa expired without ever being used.

Even now, I know that missing travel was a privilege. The pandemic brought far heavier losses, and grief came in many forms. That truth still stands.

But remembering that time matters.

Because today, when I board planes again and complain about delays or overpriced coffee, I catch myself thinking about the version of me who would have given anything just to sit in an airport.

Flying came back.
But I will always remember the time it disappeared.