Flying... once you taste it, you always long to return. So says da Vinci. And I hear he's a pretty smart dude. I try to read through his journals every once in a while. Just to be humbled and intrigued every once in a while
But what got me thinking about being in the air is the airlines. Going somewhere on a silver cigar can be mundane... or unique, depending on how much you open your eyes. For the artistic definition of the human airline experience, you could always watch Fight Club I guess. What I'm talking about is the new little things you learn about people -- and yourself -- when you travel.
Like my flight from ATL to Cinci a few days ago. I had finished my novel the flight before... already burned through the two Sudokus in the flight mag. I was out like a little kid after play time, even slept through the landing. And when they opened the hatch for deboarding... the pilot comes on with a simple message. Please observe the soldier coming home from Iraq... a moment later and a man in class A's slowly walks down the aisle towards the front, and the pilot comes back on... he was killed in action last week, and the collective gasp that comes with the realization that the man in uniform who just deboarded is the dead soldier's best friend, here to take him home to his family. And there outside is the family, the hearse, the honor guard, and the coffin, flag draped over. Most people get off the plane... some in tears. The pilots eventually bug out. I stay until the hearse is gone. And I thank the flight attendant for honoring him with me. We walk out of the plane together. I am traveling in my uniform, and I know she feels awkward. She finally tells me how she really feels about this war. I can tell she is on the verge of losing it. I tell her it's ok, we're proud to do what we do and we honor your opinion. I don't know what else to say. It's true
This isn't Vietnam. I went out for some quick dinner the night before my return trip, and I was wearing the uniform then too. I didn't get laughed at... mocked, spit on. People told me how they felt about this war... and then they bought me drinks. I'm overwhelmed.
Last flight home... from Atlanta back to my sweet bed. I sit next to a woman and her little boy. She's a single momma, didn't really have to talk to her much to figure that out. And she loves him so much. He's staring out of the window the entire trip, describing in detail everything that is going on with the airplane and the flight. And she just smiles. Then I watch him... this little boy who is tasting flight for the first time, and I see myself. And I smile. And all my worries from this week just go away.
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