I get this question more than I thought I would. “Why the airplane?” “Does it mean something?” “Was it on purpose?”—That one’s my personal favorite.

Like 98% (not a real statistic... at least I don’t think it is) of people out there, I’ve wanted a tattoo pretty much since the day I turned 18, but if anyone knows me, they know I over think everything. I could never commit. The what if’s would haunt me. “What if I hate it next year?” “What if I only like it because it’s trending?” “What if the tattoo artist screws this up?” “What if I want to remove it later?” And they go on and on. I actually went into a tattoo shop shortly after my 18th birthday set on getting a tattoo, I sat with the artist for hours before deciding that I couldn’t do it. Shout out to The Golden Needle in Moorhead for being so patient with me!

So there I was, sitting poolside in Vegas admiring my sister-in-law’s new tattoo (that she just got the day before) and talking about how badly I’ve wanted this specific tattoo for so long, when Dylan finally said “just do it, you’ve wanted it for so long, just get it.” My what if’s set in again, but it didn’t take long for his sister to convince me that if it was really that bad it would be easy to cover up/remove because it’s small. The wine probably helped a little (not only am I scared of the what if’s, but needles freak the hell out of me too), but I decided what the hell, WHAT IF I love it?

So now the after questions, the why’s. “Why the airplane?” Okay, have you ever seen those bird tattoos? The ones that symbolize freedom? The dainty cute ones? I know you have. This is kind of my own version of those. I’m not a bird, but I’ve still got wings. I’m still free. It’s a subtle reminder than I can go anywhere, literally anytime I want. I’m not a tree, I’m not planted here.

I’m also the weirdo that’s obsessed with airports and airplanes. I could sit in the airport all day, people watching, drinking coffee, watching the planes come in and out. I love the little shops and over priced restaurants. I get so giddy once I get on the actual plane. I settle in, kick back, and relax. Whether I’m starting or finishing a good book, putting some music on, watching a movie, or just sleeping, I love it. It’s like my second favorite part of traveling, just ask Dylan. The whole environment is just so—I can’t even explain it. Peaceful? Exciting? I actually thought about being a flight attendant for a long time.

Finally, the obvious reason everyone expects to hear—I love to travel. I’ve got that wanderlust, fernweh, adventure, or whatever you want to call it, in me. I want to go everywhere and see everything.

“Was it on purpose?” There’s my favorite question again, and here’s your answer: yes, it was on purpose, and yes, I do love it.