SEPTEMBER 18, 2019 – I recently took two airplane rides aboard commercial aircraft (Airbus A319 and Airbus A321, to be precise). Listen to me—“airplane rides”! You’d think I’m some kind of bumpkin who rarely travels. Depending on your standards, you could justly accuse me of being a bit of a bumpkin but not one unacquainted with air travel.
Despite my cumulative hours and miles aboard commercial aircraft, however, I still think of them as “rides,” because “ride” associated with “airplane” connotes enjoyment, even amusement, as opposed to “chore” or “boring.”
Before you disgruntled frequent flyers stop reading, please accept my commiseration. I understand full well that if you fly so often you have unfettered access to the “Sky Lounge,” you’ve probably exhausted the “enjoyment” of repeatedly squeezing yourself and your two small bags into a flying sardine can. Also, I’ll readily acknowledge your lack of “amusement” when stuck on the tarmac at O’Hare or in ground traffic in and out of LaGuardia. I’m not simply trying to put a happy face on things that frown at you. Walk . . . er, fly with me here.
In fact, in my enthusiasm, I overstate the “enjoyment” and “amusement” associated with flying. What I really mean is perspective. To this day, every time I fly, the experience triggers intense philosophical inquiry inside my cortex. As the aircraft becomes airborne and I watch the earth and its woes fall away, I think about the wonders of it all. I think about the beauty of the planet; about the expanse and complexity of human works; about how the extraordinary has become quotidian—how daily, 44,000+ sardine cans loaded with people takeoff, fly and land at their intended destinations.
For take-offs and landings, I put everything—everything—away and press my nose to the window. (Rarely do I not get to sit by a window, but if I’m in the middle or on the aisle, I eat my heart out.) It’s bonus time if the skies are clear or at least the cloud deck is high. I pretend we’re flying over an enormous map, the scale of which changes as we ascend or descend. I’m in awe of the infinite variety across the face of earth and among the marks of civilization.
At cruising altitudes, especially over the American Midwest, I marvel at the durability and visibility of the time-honored survey work that divided the land into ranges, townships and sections. From seven miles up, the earth is more wholistic than it appears from . . . well, earth.
On a long flight you say you’re going to watch a new release movie? Go right ahead! I’ll be watching Flight Tracker. This app, providing operating specs (e.g. outside temperature, ground speed, head/tailwind) and the flight’s progress on a geographical map, was developed especially for me. I’m sure of it.
Though the divide between air travel and cattle transport has diminished, I’m still a fan of flying—and seeing the world from a perspective that never fails to make me think and wonder about life upon our planet.
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© 2019 Eric Nilsson
