There’s nothing like a break in routine to heighten the senses. It’s one of the reasons I love to travel.

Despite waking at 3:45, I was completely alert during my layover a few hours later. Like many airports, Atlanta’s doubles as an impressive art gallery. The long stroll between terminals was a sensory feast. An exhibit above an electric sidewalk featured multi-colored metal and lights that mimicked a canopy of leaves, complete with squawking bird sounds. A long curved section of wall bore dozens of multi-media pieces created by local children.

This piquing of the senses could have had something to do with how much I enjoyed my overpriced food court breakfast. The more-than-adequate bacon and eggs came with an amazing medley of red, white, and sweet potatoes, with slightly crisp skins yielding to fluffy, not-too-firm, not-too-soft insides.

As I savored the last few bites, though, I realized there might have been something else at play. My phone, for a change, was tucked away in my backpack instead of near me on the table. I decided to leave it there for the remaining hour of my layover and to continue being more “present.”

Soon after, I noticed a woman looking in a mirror and fussing with her hair. I caught myself thinking it ironic that she cared so much about her hair, despite what an unflattering style it was. It’s a bad habit of mine, making quick, harsh judgments about other humans. Lately I’ve at least been catching myself and then trying to set my mind in a more positive direction.

So I decided to look for one pleasing feature in every person I saw until I boarded the plane. I immediately tuned into bright eyes, thick hair, turned up noses, impeccable pedicures, toned calves, and a lot of contagious smiles. I would have missed them all had I been tethered to my iPhone.

I also saw bruises and birthmarks, turned out feet, metal spikes through cartilage, and teeth that never had the privilege of orthodontics. I saw people. All God’s people. And I saw them with kinder eyes. I wanted to know their stories. Where did you get that bruise? Tell me about all your piercings and why you chose that tattoo. What did you do with your hands for so many years that you now suffer so from arthritis? I bet you get tired of people saying, “Wow, you’re tall.”

I found myself wanting to comfort a crying baby while his young mother dealt with a toddler and luggage. I wanted to reach out and touch an amazing crop of orangey-brown dreadlocks with bright red Beats nestled in them, but, of course, that would be creepy since they were attached to a complete stranger.

What I noticed next was the noise. Overlapping PA announcements, bickering siblings, squealing courtesy carts, and the drone of countless conversations converged like an angry, insane symphony. But it reminded me that the in-flight fullness in my ears had finally subsided, as had the headache that began just before boarding in St. Louis. Instead of being annoyed by the clatter, I felt grateful that I was feeling better.

The flight to New Orleans was perfect. Or maybe it just seemed perfect because I’d chosen to tune into life, and to soften my point of view.