In the Aeroplane Over the [Great Lakes], pt. 2

So, my first plane trip in over a decade was, all things considered, a resounding success.  I guess I feel the need to discuss this issue more because at it's heart, I'm truly amazed by the act of human flight.  I mean, there we were, all couple-hundred of us strangers, just hanging there by the relatively basic of physical principles, gliding along towards our respective destinations. 

There's this lack of aesthetic that exists on commercial airliners.  The seats don't align across rows evenly.  The windows don't line up with the rows of seats evenly.  The elbow rests hurt more than help.  Air travel can be an unforgiving beast, but it's a miracle that we gladly suffer.

There was this juxtaposition that I endured, at whatever level of willingness, presented through my misaligned windows; the engine dangling precariously from the wing, set against the backdrop of the night lights below.  A mild turbulence throughout the latter 2/3rds of the flight would bounce the plane, but the engine wouldn't bounce the same.  It reacted either a few moments before or a few moments after, depending on how I chose to understand it. I found this slightly unnerving, but also a useful life metaphor.  To me, it was the incongruity of observation and existence, the notion that we can observe and make sense of a lot in the world, but often our observed reality may contradict with the natural reality's supremacy.  Here I felt unnerved by the shaking of the plane, but in fact, I was probably more safe than I had been in many moments in my life where I felt much, much safer.

What is it about plane travel that causes us to reflect?  I bear a profound fondness for The Kinks - Lola Versus Powerman and the Moneygoround, and on that album there is a song titled This Time Tomorrow.  On it, Ray Davies reflects upon the perspective of being so many thousands of feet above the ground, and the lack of connection one can feel due to the perceived physical distance.  I guess the distance has a profoundly different effect upon me, as I am often craning to view the ground below me and to make sense of the patterns of pavement, roofs, lights, and moving objects.  This activity is especially enjoyable at night; a reason I was thankful our flight was delayed the way it was.  I saw Cleveland, and though I didn't see my family, I felt touched. 

There they were, doing what they do, safe and sound.  And I was on my way.