Prior to going to Greenville, South Carolina a few weeks ago, I went through the ritual of trying to find a good fare online.

Though there were a few direct flights, they were expensive and left Chicago at ridiculous times, like 6:00 AM. (Getting to O’Hare at 4:30 in the morning is not my idea of a good start to a laid back weekend with family.)

I booked a Chicago to Charlotte flight that left at 9:00 AM with a connecting flight one hour and 18 minutes later. Not a horrendous layover, I thought, not imagining how much I actually enjoyed my time on the ground there.

I normally don’t think of airports as being part of my destination city. Yes, SFO will feature sandwiches made from sourdough rolls and at the Memphis airport, you can buy Elvis guitar picks (along with toothpaste and aspirin) at the sundry kiosks.

Airports are all the same, right? They don’t belong to any city or country. They all have signs (in English) welcoming you. They all have frequently updated departure and arrival information posted along corridors. More and more, you see charging stations for travelers’ cell phones and laptops.

I didn’t know Charlotte was an INTERNATIONAL airport and that it was so big! Ready for business travelers as well as college students and golfers. Welcome to the New South.

After I landed (on time, no less), I took note of the heavy midday walking traffic between concourses; the presence of regularly placed moving sidewalks along extended straightaways and the abundance of eating options (national franchises and local favorites).

I counted no less that 4 Starbucks between my arrival gate and where I boarded a regional jet to go the last leg of my trip (which, I found out later, was only 100 miles away).

I did a double take when I passed places to change currency. (Oh yes, I forgot this was an INTERNATIONAL airport.)

I prepared a joke in my head for when I got reunited with my kin about getting a good exchange rate when I swapped my Chicago crinkled twenties for CONFEDERATE CASH.

Well staffed and friendly (the woman I saw cleaning the ladies room took time to wish me a blessed day), I saw art on the walls and serious readers checking out the shelves in the bookstores.

Not that I didn’t expect they read in the South, I just didn’t think things would be as cosmopolitan.

I confess I was starting to feel a little disappointed that nothing about my Carolina airport experience informed me that I was in the SOUTH when I hit the center concourse.

I saw several large white rocking chairs in different arrangements.

It wasn’t just an art installation. I noticed that these rocking chairs were everywhere!  They conveyed a sort of hospitality without being over-the-top sentimental.

They were so different than typical airport chairs. Chairs normally are lined up in rows to get passengers ready to be herded through the boarding process. Or, they’re built onto molded tables in food courts (as if you’d want to take one with you).

Most airport chairs are for waiting. They merely provide places to sit between being in other places. When you’re waiting, you think you’re supposed to be some place other than where you are.

These chairs (discovered later to be made by the Troutman Chair Company of Statesville, North Carolina) were made for RESTING. For taking a break from the hustle and bustle of traveling. For taking care of yourself.

There are over 100 Troutman chairs scattered around the Charlotte airport. Some face the tarmac. Others are poised to give occupants a good view of fellow travelers on the move.

When you sit in a sturdy white, wooden rocker, you accept where you are right now.

Resting rocks! Resting in a busy, international airport rocks to the 10^th power.

Being reminded that taking a pause, taking care of yourself, even enjoying watching activity swirl around you without letting yourself get sucked in is no small thing.