When I was little, my parents would take my brother and I on weekend outings to the local airport to watch the planes. It was a classic small town airport – back then, the airport didn’t have many big planes, but it had small and charter planes, and everyone in the airport was friendly and knew everyone else. There was also an airport cafe.
The cafe was in the flight school building, right on the runway beside the control tower, and probably hadn’t changed since it was built in the 50s. The cafe was nothing remarkable, with white walls and basic tables and chairs, but it had big windows that gave the best view of the runway. They also served amazing sticky cinnamon buns.