I'm Laura Norton, and this is one strange thing, the show where we search the nation's news archives for stories that can't quite be explained. Strangers, it's officially the holiday season.

And if you're anything like what Time Magazine forecast will be 100-odd million Americans

this year, you're probably going to be taking to the

skies to travel home and celebrate your familial tension.

We mean togetherness.

There's something admittedly special about the liminal space of an airport.

This time of year, yes, it's excruciatingly crowded, and yes, you forgot to empty your

water bottle out before security.

You always do forget, and now you're holding up a line.

Nice job.

But you're bathed in nostalgia too, and the comfort of knowing you'll be home

for the holidays. Sure, the airport is nobody's favorite part of the journey, but it's

our vessel to the good stuff. Your hometown airport greet you on your arrival in the

same way it does for everyone, and

the way it always has, and therein lies the comfort.

Like here in Atlanta, we slip into the calm certainty that it will always take three

hours to progress from our gate to baggage claim, and that anyone that you've asked to pick you up outside

will no longer be speaking to you after they've sat in a circle of gridlock traffic.

Really, there's nothing that beats coming home, is there?

Unless, that is, you fly into or out of, Denver International Airport.

With apologies to Colorado, we must advise that comfort is not what you'll be greeted with there,

unless a giant, demonic horse gives you the warm and fuzzies.

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