“I love flying,” I told my supervisor on Friday.
“Are you… being sarcastic?” she asked, incredulity creeping across her face.
“I’m totally serious!”
As such, I’m inordinately stoked about flying home (7 hours flight-time) not once, but twice, this month. I love the idea of winging across the country as a matter of course. Going home (eastbound) I prefer to take the red eye: you board at midnight, sleep, and wake up at your destination. On the way back (westbound), by the magic of timezones and speed of air travel, you somehow gain 2 hours on your day.
I love how you can fly from Europe to the west coast of the Americas in a day. It means that transoceanic friends are not that inaccessible. I love take off, landing, and taking in aerial views. I actually look forward with some curiosity about the upcoming in-flight meal. And turbulence is kind of fun!
To wit, I try not to forget what a fantastic privilege it is to get to travel across Canada several times a year as basic family obligation.
(To be continued next post.)