You’re certain you’ve never been here before but consider this.
I happen to know you’ve worn that same outfit on more than one prior occasion and the bar of soap you used this morning in the shower you’ve been using every day since last Thursday.
Furthermore, the seat you’re sitting in, 18E, just happens to be the same seat you were assigned to on your connecting flight for your trip to Australia back in 2005.
And on top of that, the air currently residing in your lungs happens to be the same collection of molecules you breathed 47 hours ago when you were walking your dog. After you exhaled it it made its way south, following a low-pressure system, where it got sucked into a 4-bedroom home’s air conditioning unit in a suburb of Atlanta where it was flung into the air and rose, rose, rose until this aircraft’s engine turbine sucked it in, compresed it, and allowed the plane’s environmental control system to direct it once again to your lungs.
So while your eyes may be telling your brain that the images residing outside that double-paned plexiglass window of Cancun Mexico are new and therefore reason to celebrate due to the material relocation of your body to a place it has not yet been, everything tangible in the immediate vicinity that makes up what it is to be you has been endured before. This is old hat. You could have at least worn a new shirt.
Enjoy your “vacation”.