Do you know what is utterly amazing? Peering out the tiny window of a massive commercial jet, whilst drinking coke zero above the shimmering lakes of western Canada.
Then all the sudden you are flying over a frozen tundra. Are those ice peeks or snow-covered mountains? You cannot tell. Is this Alaska or Eastern Russia? Who can say.
All you know is that for 23 years you lived on this planet and only now are beholding some of its breathtaking wonderlands.
And when your naked eyes behold the beauty of untold lands, nothing is more important than savoring this single moment.
Flying is an amazing sensation. I spent fourteen hours on a plane to South Korea. As the plane tilted and I had a chance to see beyond its giant wing emerging from the base beneath me, I looked out at the end of the world where stratus clouds played tag above the cumulonimbus.
In fourteen hours I would fly from one side of this enormous planet to the next. Flying, soaring above 30,000 feet of air and space and water.
For Fourteen hours we chased the sun as it raced across the sky, illuminating the miles upon miles of earth and sea below. For fourteen hours the plane rattled and rumbled through the stratasphere, rocking back and forth, lulling its passages to sleep.
The never-setting sun glowed against my passenger window. My body grew hot, pressed against the heated wall of plane and air. The woman beside me slept with her hands folded over her lap, blocking my way of escape. My legs began to ache, my ankles to swell, my feet to cry out, “take us somewhere, anywhere but here.” I rubbed them impatiently until the flight attendants came rolling down the isle with goods to share.