Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Window Seat

The first time I was ever on a plane was when I was seven years old visiting my grandfather in Wisconsin. I've fought for the window seat and I've been enamoured with it ever since.  I think it would have been easy to be scared of heights, especially as a child, but I couldn't get enough. I spent hours with my face pressed against the glass. 

The landscape rolling by in slow motion, a glittering city in the dark, being above the clouds. The thrill of taking off and landing. Getting to be somewhere else. I fell in love with the whole experience. 

Years later I was flying from Miami to Orlando on my way back from Brazil. The sun had just risen. Shortly after take off one of the flight attendants asked if I could close my window so people could watch the in-flight movie better. The passenger to my left was asleep and as soon as the flight attendant walked away I opened my widow again in defiance. I didn't care how bright it might have been you only get treated to this kind of a view every once in a while. 

I can't think of any movie that could match exhilaration I was feeling. The sunrise and the billowing clouds were breathtaking. 

Most passengers were asleep or watching the movie. I was enjoying the view with my face pressed against the glass. There was no way I was going to miss this opportunity. 

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