Thoughts from the Air

For some reason, being on an airplane always inspires me to write. Here are the results:

It is December 16th and I am flying from Columbus, my immediate home, to Minnesota, my home home. I am gaining more and more landmarks to search for as I fly out of Columbus, really getting to understand the geography of the city. Today, when the plane took off, I immediately identified where we were, what direction we were turning, and what I might fly over that I would recognize. I managed to see the house of a friend, somewhere I have only been twice but has distinct geography, and also the whole northern length of high street with the OSU campus, which seems so far from Worthington when you are on the ground, right in plane view.

The ground slowly faded away and for sometime we were in greyness, then emerging, the clouds took on a sea-like quality: smooth and whispy navy blue below us. A thin veil of clouds still above us, and when I say veil, I mean as transparent as tulle, really noticed only by its movement. It made me wonder how windy it is out there, and what it would fell like to be suspended in the air this high, breathe in, breathe out, feel the cold air on your skin.

Minnesota has been preparing for me - trying to cram as much Minnesota goodness into my time as possible. On Sunday it snowed 10 inches of beautiful, white powder, and then the temperature dropped. What more could one ask for in Minnesota than plentiful snow and subzero temperatures?

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Same day, many hours later, different plane. My flight from MSP to DLH got cancelled, so I was put on a later flight. I used the lunch voucher they gave me, then spent the next three hours playing DS, listening to Christmas music, and kid-watching. The family sitting near me was coming from Australia, headed for Grand Marais. Quite the trip! A four year old girl and two year old boy who were remarkably well-behaved did not seem to mind the wait, or even realize it was unusual. I guess that is ignorance as bliss.

In the meantime, between when I should have arrived in Duluth and when I actually would board a plane, snow started falling, and not exactly light snow. By the time our flight rolled around, the runways were caked in white. The captain informed us we would be taking off, just as soon as we get de-iced. We roll out onto the runway, and sit, and sit. I don't even know how long. There is this lingering, growing dread that each minute of stillness increases the chance that we will get the announcement that the airport is shutting down. Tick tick tick. I do a sudoku, doze off, wake up, and then finally the plane moves forward and the pilot announces we are getting de-iced, and then when thats done we will get in line to take off. While this is precisely what he said before, I don't think we understood the time frame when he said it the first time. Trucks pull up beside us and the plane is given a bath of what must be thousands of gallons of de-icing agent. It is vaguely pink as it washes over the windows. Then we return to waiting, this time slightly more confident we will be allowed to proceed. The plan in front of us takes off. It is amazing how clear the actual runway is, given the condition of everything else around it. It should be our turn. We turn towards the runway and stop. The engines kick on, but we don't move. I imagine the cockpit, "Ready for takeoff", "You are cleared for takeoff". Then finally, we go. Faster and faster, rushing by planes being de-iced and snow covered buildings. I feel as if the passengers should cheer when the wheels finally leave the ground, but no one else seems to agree. Perhaps such jubilation is better saved for a safe landing.

The flight to Duluth is extremely short, 25 minutes from lift off to touch down. We don't reach crusing altitude, and so we never escape the solid grey enveloping the aircraft. This is not the normal varied greys and whites of flying through a cloud. It is nothingness. Tiny waves of de-icing fluid make their way across the windows. The flight is so short, a normal beverage service is not possible. Instead, we are given tiny childish plastic cups with foil across the tops. As I slurp mine down greedily, realizing only when the liquid hits my mouth how dry the air is, the plane makes a noticeable shift in direction as descent begins. The lights of Duluth appear, and the flight lasts no longer than it takes me to hurriedly write out these two and a half pages.

Here is too a safe landing.

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Obviously, since I am typing this in my parents kitchen, the landing did go well, as did the drive home (though slow due to lingering traffic issues from the weekend's blizzard. It is zero degrees and snowing, and absolutely beautiful. So refreshing. I don't understand how people could not like cold, I feel like it brings out the feeling of being alive, but perhaps more on that another day.

Good night!!