It's all about the getting on; they can't not let you off.
Remembering how people point out the plane in the sky, feeling like no one's watching. Being that person who is watching. Loving that feeling.
Flying over bigger houses (cause we're lower), thinking, "Now, these people, they don't point and smile - these people live by the airport. Smiling, looking out on their houses thinking, "Fuck you, too!" Wanted to give them the finger, but pretty sure guy in 9B wouldn't understand.
Giving up the control for the things I can't possibly control is nice. Letting myself trust the professionals - realizing that no matter what, I couldn't possibly fly the plane as good (or any better) than them. Not letting myself worry about whether they're qualified. They are.
Most flight time is going around in circles, waiting for a parking spot.
Lake Michigan = BIG!
Layers of clouds ----> Sunny/Airplane sammich :)
Do you prefer the window or aisle seat? Why?
Love the sensation of moving.
Love take off!
Rest assured, self, the pilots don't want to fly into a flock of geese. Pretty sure they'll avoid it if at all possible.
Love touch down!
Guy (in detroit) cheered at touch down. :)
It helped me to look out the window when we were going through a cloud, and realize that I could still see the wing. Grounded me, and made me realize that the pilots weren't driving into anything they didn't know was coming.
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One time when I went to Mexico, I came back and the connection to Springpatch was in Dallas. The flight went fine, although not as well as the original flight there, where passengers would hoot and holler and share their flasks of crown royal and jim beam with all, but still good. We hit some turbulance, but all was well. Getting off the plane and standing in line for customs, we all looked over and saw the flight crew walking past us. One of the members was giggling and having problems walking. Right then, she laughed and fell down and kind of rolled around on the ground for a while. The gentleman running customs didn't like the fact that this was happening and walked over to the flight crew to tell them as much. After a brief exchange of words, the customs agent ended the conversation with "and it's against the rules to fly a plane drunk, isn't it?" Everyone in line must have let out a collective gasp, because the crew looked over at us, gathered their things and made for the door. Ah, the little things in life.
I tell you this story because it shows that if this specific person was drunk on the plane, we still made it with no problems, as far as we could tell. I don't think she was drunk, I think she was just playing around. It is a good feeling to give up the control and know everything is still going to be okay.
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