My flight from Denver was delayed an hour and a half and way oversold. When the gate agent finally handed me a boarding pass, I took a deep breath and walked out to the waiting plane. Row 14. Seat B. Right in the middle. Our 10:30 take-off was smooth. I slept for a bit, watched the end of "Lyrics and Words" and read the in-flight magazine. We arrived in Seattle to light drizzle and mid 40s. The train wound around underground to the main terminal and I made my way to baggage claim. I walked out into the cold air to wait for my husband. It's illegal to smoke so close to public buildings in Washington, but cigarette butts littered the sidewalk and the damp air was permeated with the scent of stale smoke. For all its unhealthfulness, there is something oddly homey about it. I watched cars dance their way through traffic on the arrivals drive, the flashing lights and occasional sirens from Port of Seattle police cars impatiently commanding drivers to keep moving, no parking allowed. I was asleep moments after hitting the pillow.
I hate flying and travel stresses me but I love it & cannot live life without it. Something about flying reminds me of blogging. Millions of people move through common space in relative anonymity. Polite nods to the people in Seats A and C, maybe a bit of chit chat, the flight attendant moves the details to the overhead bin. Each passenger with their own life and story, possibly talked about but rarely for the sake of forming real relationships. Anonymity with a name - maybe real, maybe not. It's a curious thing.
©2009 Mindy Danylak
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