That leaving feeling.

After a final anxious peek into my bag, I know I'm set. Important documents secured, along with other nonsense packed precariously in. 

Confidently zipping up my loot assures a new destination is in the near future. I toss my pack in the backseat of a friend's Mini Cooper.I hop in, excitedly knowing soon I will be met with the frantic pace of departures at Tom Bradley. 

"Nervous? Gosh, I would be. Never traveled that far alone." His words echoed some of my own stagnant fears I had about this long haul journey, but I quietly looked over and slowly smiled. 

"Nope. The end result makes the long trip worth it. I try to get as far away as possible." Even though I was fibbing, it felt good to wear an overly confident facade as kind inspiration. Although I was about to be found out, as the sweat that had accumulated on my palms had since transferred to his smooth leather bucket seat. 

I was hoping he was not aware. 

As the car steadily approached LAX, the delicate scent of jet fuel tickles my nose. The suffocating aroma triggers my heart to race knowing I'm so close to leaving. I tightly grip on to my solitary sack as if I'm about to pull a James Bond tumble from the Mini, being that close to my gate brings about excited anxiety. 

"Sure you're not nervous? Seem a little jumpy". He might be noticing my shiny addition to his seat. I make a somewhat grand attempt to mop up some of my anxiety. 

Shaking off any notions that I was anything but chill and in control, I reached over with the non-sweaty palm to place a little pat on his shoulder to assure him I was great, and he needn't worry about me. 

Soon, I would be gleefully wandering the halls of my favorite terminal. There's not another place that brings absolute joy in my wobbly heart other than Mr. Bradley's terminal. Knowing I would be departing the "safety" of America's border, with so much brilliant adventure beckoning me, it's just a heart pounding, joyful place. What lays beyond that terminal in Los Angeles is just a complete thrill.

We inch up slowly to arrivals, since he's assured me that there is less traffic at this part of the airport, and I honestly can't argue with my acquired ride. 

As the car rolls quietly to a halt, I waste no time in throwing open my car door, almost nicking the curb. After a stern side glance, he snags my satchel from the safety of the back and playfully tosses it to me. 

Before I was able to giddily skip off to my next adventure, he pulled me aside for a brotherly, reassuring hug which dissipated the lingering pool of sweat.  "Be safe, ok?", as if he was my sibling reminding me to come back in one piece. 

I nodded dutifully, and waved as he drove off to join the sea of salty drivers.

As I headed inside, I took one long glance at all the airline signs that were posted outside. 

My Disneyland. My Six Flags. Which ride am I going on? 

Oh, the places you can go! 

Sauntering in, I head towards my chosen airline to drop off my belongings. I unzip my tightly packed rucksack to snag my passport, elated to get to show it for boarding. I approach the check-in counter, then I lug it onto the conveyer belt. I latch all the loose clasps, slip an extra bag tag on it, and wave my see ya laters at it. 

Clasping my boarding passes, I saunter over to the many lines of tightened security, remembering to breathe as my next adventure is upon me.