I flew overnight, Seattle to London last night.
The airport contained, approximately:
At a certain point, there were 1,000,000 micro droplets per square foot of:
I sat in a row of three. We were each in our own nests of personal belongings because there is no room.
We flew over the dogs Labrador and Newfoundland.
At 3:15 a.m., my home time, I saw Ireland below. Omigod! Omigod! Omigod! Look! That’s! Ireland! Right! There! It’s! Just! Sitting! There!
This is the magic of flight.
It isn’t the air inside the plane, which smells of:
1. Stale perfume
2. Fake food
3. Sedentary skin
5. Chewed-up enthusiasm
I didn’t know what to expect to exactly happen on this trip. So, I liked this quote:
“After you jump a net appears.”