The Journey

I love to travel. I forget how much until I go again. Did I pack my toothbrush?

Flying out of the last airport, the last leg of my journey, my head pressed firmly against the back of the seat as the plane lifts its nose up, toward the sky at speeds I cannot control. I can’t help but wonder once again; what is that building over yonder, who lives in that neighborhood, where does that road begin and where does it end and will it ever get easier to get through security? No, I am not trying to divert my attention away from the fact that I am a little nervous when it comes to flying but you can’t get to a Caribbean island by automobile.

The plane rises higher and I can see farther into the distance. Is that a secret military base or an extra-terrestrial habitat? Does anyone else on this plane see the alien mothership? Calm down, I tell myself, it’s just a nuclear power plant. I didn’t know we had those. I am so glad I paid the extra fee to board first, else I might not have a window seat and would have never known that a nuclear power plant is disguising itself as a UFO mother ship.

From this height, fields of crops are cut-out of the earth like an intricately designed jigsaw puzzle. Who did that and did they do that purposefully? Someone in an airplane must direct the tractors on the ground. How else can they be perfect, purposely and painlessly devised? Unless the extraterrestrials, from that so-called nuclear power plant, did it before being captured.

Then clouds obscure my vision and my anxiety is reborn, a little jostling and the plane angles up to lift above the clouds and turbulence. Settling into a higher and much smoother altitude, my white-knuckled grip on the hand rest relaxes but still, a ding over the intercom and the steward reminds us to stay in our seat belts until the captain turns off the seatbelt sign. As I pull the belt tighter, I wonder if the steward secretly hopes that the captain never turns off the sign, making everyone stay seated for the journey.

Breaking through the clouds, there is a whole new and different landscape. Puffy-white-cotton-ball type clouds float below the plane, seemingly hanging in mid-air, by an invisible string I am sure. If I could just reach through the tiny window to touch one, taste one, toy with one. I wonder if the pilot can maneuver the plane to collect all the clouds, then we can drag them behind us like balloons. Wait, that won’t work, I hate balloons.

Below the balls of fluff, the coastline quickly recedes and blue-green ocean water is beneath me, a magnificent color. So crystal clear, I can almost see the ocean bottom. I strain to see the inhabitants of the ocean but I only see the dots of boats on top of the water, barely. The white wake of water is the only thing that signifies their presence, where are they going?

Ah, the destination, a point on the map. Where are any of us going? Is it a business trip, a vacation, an anniversary or a honeymoon? No tour guide ever mentions the journey to the destination. There are so many people in between one point and the next, each with their own stories to tell. Whatever the destination, enjoy the trip, an adventure worthy of all the enthusiasm, excitement and exhilaration. Yes please, I would love a blanket and pillow.