Just recently, we college students were released from the gates of Hell for our highly anticipated and well-deserved summer break. (Yes, the “gates of hell” are referring to the school’s gates. Actually, I don’t think we have gates, disregard that first sentence). While many American students frivolously frolicked off to their houses on a one- or two-hour drive, I had been given the honor and privilege of traveling across the entirety of the globe apart from Antarctica. Rather than driving home, I happily departed on my journey from New York to Melbourne; a ridiculously long and grueling three flights wasting precisely 29 hours, 1,740 minutes, and 104,400 seconds (or 104,400,000,000,000 nanoseconds) of my life, not including the traveling to and from the airports mind you. That’s a lot of Netflix watching that I did.

As much as I thrive off my daily dose of Netflix watching, I truly cannot describe to you how incredibly tedious and tortuously boring those 29 hours were; alone in a big scary airport with nobody to keep you company but your mobile device that was constantly on 3 percent. So I won’t describe it. I’ll just tell you: It was boring.

But really, the purpose of this post wasn’t actually to complain about my long escapade home. Actually, I wanted to talk about another conspiracy in itself (Dun dun dun! That’s a pun because my last name is Dun. Just one “N,” though. It’s weird, I know, I’m sorry).

So there I was, lounging in the waiting area wearing my grey hoodie and Adidas trackies (so four years ago, but who cares cause I’m at the airport and nobody will ever see me) when I happened to look upwards from my half-asleep state at a woman walking past me.

The first thing I noticed was the “clunk clunk” of her heels. Heels at the airport? The idea is astonishing to me. You will rarely find me wearing heels downtown for the sake of my own clumsiness and my foot health, let alone at the airport. My eyes widened as I looked down at my own pair of runners that used to be white but were now that ugly-grayish color. One thing my mother always taught me was to wear my biggest shoes and heaviest jacket to the airport to avoid the overflow of the suitcase. (It was overflowing, you were right, Mum.)

Then there was her outfit: a tight black skirt, stockings, white blouse and leather jacket. Seriously, she looked like she had stepped out of Cosmopolitan. I started to question my outfit of choice, the lacking stylishness of my most-frequent shopping stores, my necessary levels of comfort when flying and basically my whole life purpose.

I didn’t want to look at her face, really. But I had to; I was drawn by the allure of her gorgeous outfit. And let me just tell you, there was no disappointment there, either. Her hair was curled perfectly into soft ringlets. (How can they not fall out? She must have good hairspray.) And her makeup looked almost professionally done (contour on point! 10/10). Lights and a halo seemed to illuminate around her. I didn’t want to think about my own pimply non-makeup-covered face, my puffy, tired eyes or the bird’s nest on top of my head. I had literally rolled out of bed when I had made it to my flight.

So what is with people looking so good at the airport? I’ve broken it down into four main reasons:

1. They are a supermodel. Flying is hard with the press following you around everywhere, fans asking for your autograph or begging you to take a photo with them (trust me, I know). When you’re a high-class celebrity, there’s absolutely no going anywhere without looking fabulous.

2. They are meeting their true love at the airport on the other side. Unfortunately, I was only meeting my Dad (sorry, Dad, thanks for everything you do for me).

3. They have a business meeting as soon as they step off the plane. Got to dress nicely for those business meetings -- trust me, I’m always the one to wear jeans and sneakers to work. And yes, I have been told by my boss that I don’t look “nice” enough -- it ain’t a great feeling

4. They are a part of a higher subspecies of better-looking, more-extravagant humans who always have perfect hair and just naturally dress nice. Real-life people, like Blair Waldorf and Serena Van Der Woodsen, fall into this category. If you are in fact one of these people, then this is NOT a sin, but in fact, a blessing from the Holy Lord. Take this gift and utilize it. Glorify our world with the essence of your phenomenalness (that’s definitely not a word), for the rest of we meager humanoids are forever in your worship.

For those of you (you know who you are) who look nice at airports, correct me if I’m wrong about any of my presumptions (but I think I’m right). Now I’m not saying that we should never not wear nice clothes to the airport (you get my drift?), I’m just saying we should all appreciate those who look lovely; for a chance to escape our mundane and regular lives as ordinary people. Otherwise, I like to live by the Taylor Swift quote, “She wears high heels, I wear sneakers,” as a life doctrine.