williamwataru

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a fascination with liminal spaces. 

I remember going to airports as a child and having this strange feeling of sentimentality watching people come and go. Movie theaters, hotel lobbies, and walking through schools at night are all examples of liminal spaces that give me a similar feeling.

Right now, I am 30 minutes from completing my 11-hour flight from San Francisco to Paris. I believe airplanes are some of the most interesting liminal spaces of all.

I’m reminded of the movie Fight Club, where the narrator talks about the idea of a “single serving friend,” similar to the single serving food items you get on a plane. I can’t think of many other situations where you share such an intimate space with people for so long while knowing you will most likely never see them again.

We left San Francisco around 4pm and will arrive in Paris close to noon. The feeling of leaving in the afternoon and arriving around the same time of day after flying for 11 hours is its own strange experience. We aren’t fully in Paris yet, but we definitely aren’t in San Francisco anymore.

I think I find comfort in liminal spaces because I have trouble making decisions. Sometimes it feels like I’d rather exist in a liminal space permanently instead of choosing one place and losing another. I think this is somewhat encouraged when you are young. Leave your options open, try everything, see what happens. Children are viewed as being full of potential, with almost any outcome still possible.

As I get older, though, I feel an increasing pressure to make concrete decisions. At some point, there will probably be a time when I can no longer occupy liminal space in the same way I did as a young adult. At least, this is what I have been thinking about lately.

For now, we are about to land in Paris. I didn’t sleep much on the plane, but somehow I feel pretty good.