Flight 574 to New York

I get the window seat, and for once it's not the one by the wing (you know what I'm talking about: the wing blocks the entire view and you wonder what is the point anyway). Instead, I can see one of the engines. JetBlue, it says as the landscape changes from the gray of pavement to white and then blue. JetBlue. JetBlue. 

Sitting next to me there is a young businessman, dressed like he should be flying first class instead of sitting among the bleary eyed college kids back from spring break and the older parents visiting their children. He is either on his phone or his laptop, typing away as if his life depended on it, and he exudes the air of someone who is too busy to even bother with basic human interaction. It is just his luck, then, that on his other side sits an older woman whose sole hobby in life seems to be starting fights. She fought with the flight attendant to get her carry-on bag into the plane when she was told the overhead compartments were full, and she complained about the half an hour delay due to bad weather to anyone who would listen. No one listened. 

A group of baby-faced baseball players, wearing matching red shirts and equally dopey expressions, are sitting somewhere at the back. In front of me a older man demands his walker be treated with the utmost respect. 

Airplanes are a small microcosmos; little planets that will be born and implode in the time it takes to get from Florida to New York. It reminds me of why I like people--their oddities and idiosyncrasies. The way they go about their lives. How every single one of them, regardless of religion, is willing to put their faith into a tube hurtling through the air at almost a thousand miles per hour. You can tell a lot about a person's character by watching how they travel, I believe. And we are all together as one, in our own private way, above the clouds. 

The old lady gets the businessman to open a bag of chips for her, and then gets him to help a girl sitting behind us who has suddenly started throwing up. I watch with amusement as he follows her instructions, flustered, laptop suddenly forgotten on the little tray. 

I lean against the window and take it all in. New York, I'm here for you.