Dang, Jeffster, I love to fly. I haven't flown commercially for almost thirty years, but I love to fly. Don't want to now, with all the weeny-ization of the experience due to many factors.
In the old days, I remember the airlines giving out complimentary small duffels (we called any small bag a "McKenzie bag" for all our growing-up years). We walked over steamy tarmac, with its rich creosote/kerosene smell to the plane. The ladder was tall, silvery aluminum and led to a smallish hatch and a smiling stewardess. You saw the relative smallness of the rounded fusilage, wondered at how so many and their luggage would fit, your ears took in the thundrous roar of the planes, the ground thrummed beneath your feet with the beat of the motors, the whining din of jets.
It was adventure!
Wide-eyed, I fought for the window seat. Settled in, I thrilled to the speed, racing down the runway, fast eough? Pushed back in my seat, my heart soared as we left the Earth, and joined the ranks of eagles. I never tired of watching the tiny doings on the ground, or the upper surfaces of clouds. This was a view that only birds and God had of my planet.
And returning to a new Earth, the same yet different, with new experiences ahead, was just as cool. Closer we came, things became recognizeable, oh so close! I felt I could wave at that man in the car...how is the landing? three point? No, two and one...and we are slowing down, turbines roaring, turning, dang, it's over. I step down the stairs, bless the ship and its crew for the safe ride, and marvel at the engineering, the crafting, the ship, the amazingness of something so heavy lifting into the air and traversing the globe. Flight is a wonderful amalgam of intelligence and miracle. I love it.
Killdeer
Topic: guess whos birthday today (Read 1263 times)
