I have a deep affinity for airports. I grew up in San Diego, flying out of Lindbergh Field where the Lucky Lindy aviator has a massive mural dedicated to his honor. If you’re lucky enough to claim your bags from Terminal Two, you’ll find a lifesize model of The Spirit of Saint Louis hovering above. The small single runway airport in Northern Michigan that I would fly into every summer, has Aviator Snoopy ceiling fans whose propellers keep summer travelers safe from the squelching heat. I dropped off a friend last night at SFO wearing a full suit (his theory that it would wrinkle less if worn, rather than stored). And he did look quite sharp next to the slew of passengers arriving in pajama bottoms and hoodies. I know the golden age of commercial airfare is long over, but I cherish that many terminals and airports continue to glorify airtravel of times past.

The above mosaic can be found in the single terminal at Ulan-Ude Airport in Eastern Siberia. A fearless red suited cosmonaut greets travelers as they touch down. Maybe I am too much of an idealist, but nothing compares to feeling like you just participated in a great legacy of human accomplishment.