Flight

            Since I was a baby I’ve been flying at least twice a year.  Most of the time this was just to and from Florida, but that’s still a lot of flying.  So much so that its become mundane to me.  It’s no big deal anymore.  Flying is just, how you go on vacation nowadays.  Nobody travels by boat anymore and road trips aren’t as typical as they once were.  But we never really think much of flying itself.  Flying is a thing of trust, you trust the pilot knows what he’s doing; you trust them to get you where you’re going without even the slightest hiccup.  You trust your fellow passengers when you get crammed into a tiny cabin without enough personal space for most chimps.  You trust that they’re not sick, or crazy enough to hurt you.  And finally you trust the plane itself, because a giant hunk of metal weighing several thousand tons shouldn’t ever leave the ground. Yet they do, thousands of times a day places take of from the ground and never look back. But all this trust has become so routine that nobody from my generation ever thinks twice about it.  Honestly we missed out. We missed out on the true wonder of flight.  I never stood in my back yard watching bird’s fly and being absolutely mesmerized.  It was cool, but I didn’t give birds flying their truly deserved props. None of us did.  “Man you may conquer the air, but the birds will lose their wonder, and the clouds will reek of gasoline”