Grant Me Wings that I Might Fly

Kathleen, Alyson and I got all checked in and boarded the plane with no problems.  I finally had a moment of relief after a week of anxiety when I was boarding the plane.  I had been separated from Alyson and Kathleen and was walking the "plane hallway thingy" alone (this was the consensus on what to call it. I'm pretty sure that's what it's called anyway.) I finally, after weeks of stress, had a moment of clarity.  I was alone, doing something so far outside my comfort zone on my own, however brief. 

I'M AN ADULT. And stuff. Hoorah!

This is the one at Charles De Gaulle in Paris. So freaking cool. 

Lift off was fascinating. I haven't flown in a plane in a while. Or flown in anything else for that matter. I last flew sophomore year of highschool. It felt exponentially more freeing this time. And interesting to think about the fact that if you stripped away the seat I was sitting on, the passengers and staff I was flying with, and the plane itself I would be floating through the air. Alone in its vastness and all that poetic bullshit. 

The plane took off, I was seated in an aisle seat next to the emergency exit so no one sat in front of me. Beside me was a middle aged American couple. They seemed nice enough. The man had exceptionally stubby sausage-like fingers. Watching him play with the personal touch screen TV was entertaining. He would jab his quarter-width fingertips against the screen with as much force as his two-thirds regular human length appendages could handle then get frustrated when the device didn't understand what he wanted. Further into the trip he spilled red wine on his fancy pants. That's entertainment.

 Somewhat ironically the first song that played on my spotify playlist was "At the Bottom of Everything" by Bright Eyes. Please listen.

http://youtu.be/dUjR7PFo-tQ

And I didn't give a damn about the fact that the opening lyrics describe a plane crash, because that song is fantastic.