I don't know why, but I've always liked the word tarmac. Before I even knew what it meant, I knew it was something important, a place where powerful people went and big things happened. Maybe it was from snippets of the TV news I'd overhear about presidents being greeted on the tarmac, or my airline pilot father making conversation with his friends about a recent flight, but I was sure that a tarmac was far more exciting than my suburban backyard. When I finally figured out that tarmac referred to the runways, aprons, and ramp areas of airports, it lost none of its allure. Sure, the golden age of flight is over, but big things still happen in airports, journeys begin and end. And for some reason, the word tarmac perfectly describes the big, flat open space that serves as as a mini-purgatory for fliers, whether coming or going. ]]>