Blogging from 36,000 Feet

I don't know where to begin. (Other than at the "create new post" page on the Blogger dashboard.) How one's life, one's outlook, one's perspective, can change. In a weekend. A day even.

Friday morning, and Thursday night for that matter, I was somewhat of a nervous wreck. I had never flown. It wasn't so much the flying that freaked me out. I was more worried about finding the airport, the terminal, my gate, etc. Once I was seated at the gate, waiting to board, I was fine. Sure, the flight attendant had to caress me with my head in her lap until we got to cruising altitude. (That's a technical aeronautic term (TAT). Don't concern yourself with it.) But really, that was more of a "hot flight attendant" thing than a "Bone's trying to open the cabin door" thing.

I flew American. And I was very pleased. Of course, I have nothing to compare it to, but everyone at the airport and with the airline was very friendly and helpful. When we left DFW for California, the pilot said we would be flying as fast as possible to make up time just in case there might be smaller planes that would slow us down once we neared our destination. And I was thinking we're flying. Why not go as fast as you can all the time? There's no speed limit. It's like one big aerial autobahn. Floor it, man!

Is that a Seinfeld bit? I think it may be, partly. I know this is... "They show you how to use a seat-belt, in case you haven't been in a car since 1965. Oh, you lift up on the buckle, oh!! I was trying to just break the metal apart! I thought that's how it works. I was going to attempt to tear the fabric part of the belt. I thought if I could just get it started..."

So anyhow, I liked the airports. $3 for a 20 ounce Coke. You can't beat that. And DFW had a Dallas Cowboys Pro Shop inside it!! So I got a long-sleeved t-shirt. I wanted to take pictures of the planes outside on the tarmac (again, TAT), but no one else really was. Then I didn't want the security to think I was taking surveillance photos or something for Branch-Davidian East. I love people watching. And listening. Observing. An airport is a great place to do that. Walking through the airport, bag slung over my shoulder, suddenly I could see myself as a world traveler.

A couple of people mentioned that for my first time flying, it would probably be a good idea to fly with someone who had flown before. And that is good advice. But now, having done it alone, there's an even greater sense of accomplishment. The feeling you only have when you do something on your own. I know this probably sounds silly and insignificant to most of you. But for me, this was huge. It's not that I had ever refused to fly anywhere. I just had never had a reason or felt the need or really thought about it. Still, there were these walls, which I had unknowingly set in my mind, that seemed so humongous and insurmountable. But now, after the fact, they seem only like small stepping stones.

Flying is amazing. Looking down on the tops of clouds. Seeing God's creation from this perspective. Going from DFW to California, the pilot said we'll be passing over the Colorado River, Mohave Desert, and other places. I thought to myself, it's like a real-life maps.google.com up here! Hope we don't zoom in though.

I think I will stop there, lest this entry become like the reign of a two-term President, and go on for far too long. I will probably write more about my trip later. Maybe tomorrow.

Monday morning, I was sitting in a French restaurant, at a window table for two, looking out at the Pacific Ocean. Monday night, I was home, piling clothes from my suitcase into the washing machine.

Friday morning, I had never been on a plane. I had never been west of Texas. Today, all I want to do is take plane rides to other places. Oh, and get massages.

Life is amazing, ain't it.

"In the mornin' I'm leavin', makin' my way back to Cleveland, so tonight I hope that I will do just fine. And I don't see how you could ever be, anything but mine..."