I've never known a fear of flying. One of my earliest memories is of soaring in the air from New York City and across the Atlantic to Frankfort, Germany. What an adventure for a 5-year-old! Before the long trip my mom bought new coloring books, crayons and small toys to keep the attention of two young children -- my brother was 3 -- for 10 hours or more.
Since then I've flown a dozen times, at least, and every time is a thrill, whether flying halfway around the world or across a state line.
As I wait in the terminal, it's hard not to notice the wide range of human emotion on display. It doesn't matter if folks are saying "hello" or "goodbye," there are often tears.
With that one last hug given at the curb.
As lovers cling tightly before letting go.
While dads and moms give last-minute instructions to their suddenly all-grown-up offspring bound for college.
As grandparents hold onto grandchildren for those last few moments, before loved ones fly across the country.
Or as relatives return home to spend the holiday together.
And of course, there's the man in military garb being welcomed home by his bride and the baby he's only seen in pictures.
Arms are opened wide -- then embracing. Hands clasp or squeeze a shoulder, with smiles through the tears, and shouts of recognition and laughter. Young children dance around, elated with the excitement.
Or perhaps at times, there's only silence.
Tearful partings and tearful greetings. Apprehension, expectancy, boredom, or business as usual -- it's all there, plus more.
Once on the plane, everyone gets settled. Some faces are hopeful. Others stare longingly out the window.
During takeoff this month on our way to Virginia, I heard snores coming from the seat behind me. But with the surge of engines, and the aircraft moving into place on the runway, there was the same familiar thrill rising within me. I'm far from the 5-year-old girl who flew for the first time, but my face broke into an automatic smile as the plane sped forward and upward to leave the ground. My daughter and I huddled at the window, taking in the sights. Miniature cars, buildings and roadways resemble toys neatly laid out for play. Farmland becomes a giant patchwork quilt. When I looked back, I caught the eye of the girl behind us, and she was smiling, too.
Isn't it amazing how flying from one airport to another takes just one hour, when driving between those same places takes five or six hours? And how commuters between Washington, D.C. will spend more time inching along I-95 to get home, when those airborne can fly hundreds of miles in minutes! (It took us longer to drive from Reagan National to Quantico, than it did to fly from Fresno to Salt Lake City!)
For the most part, flights are uneventful. We're strangers packed into a long, tight space for hours, passing the time politely by reading, chatting or napping. Or by watching the small screen on the back of the seat in front of us, which not only plays music and shows movies, but now features a GPS-style moving map, so we can see exactly where the plane is in relation to the landscape below.
Soaring beside jet streams and viewing Chicago's sparkling outline along Lake Michigan at dusk left me speechless! And seeing the Shenandoah River Valley, crossing the rugged Rocky Mountains, and watching enormous puffs of whipped cream clouds still makes me feel like a kid again.
At one point our ground speed was 1,019 miles per hour, and the outside temperature was minus-60 degrees Fahrenheit! And no matter what the weather is like on the ground, above the clouds the sun is always shining.
Then there are the summer rain showers and winter's snowstorms that have a way of rearranging our lives, as many experienced recently, from early December's snowfall in the northwestern U.S. to the record-breaking blizzard on the East Coast last weekend that stranded folks in hotels and airports for a couple days and right before Christmas!
Wherever your travels take you this season, be safe, patient and courteous, and may you never lose the wonder of seeing the world from 10,000 feet above sea level!
Debbie Croft writes about life in the foothill communities. She can be reached at composed@tds.net, or at her Sun-Star blog: City Girl, Country Life.
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