The Last Thing You Eat Before Leaving the Ground

Airport food isn’t a meal. It’s a farewell.

You don’t eat it because you’re hungry. You eat it because you’re about to be removed from the ground, sealed into a tube, and told to sit quietly with your thoughts. This is not the time for restraint. This is the time for something heavy, salty, and unmistakably final.

At PHL, right before heading to LAX, that farewell came in the form of Philly cheesesteak nachos from Chickie’s and Pete’s. No peppers. No onions. For reasons that do not need to be explained when flying is involved. Just chips, meat, and an aggressive amount of cheese.

They were delicious. They were also way too salty. The kind of salty that makes you aware of your tongue and every decision that led you to this table. Not in a bad way. In a clarifying way. A reminder that once you leave the ground, control becomes theoretical.

This wasn’t lunch. It was a send-off. A final anchoring moment before altitude, recycled air, and whatever version of yourself emerges on the other side. The nachos did their job. I said goodbye properly.