June 7, 2021 – Monday (now back in Denver but this was written on the plane enroute)
I am restless. I’m on my way back to CO – flight #1 of the day – from Charlotte. A flight of a whopping 40 minutes in the air. I’ve dropped my magazine between my seat and the wall and can’t reach it and in trying, I jiggled my (obnoxiously priced) $5 cup of Starbucks and spilled it onto my leg and into my shoe. I’m off to a good start.
Whatever altitude we are at, we are flying just above a layer of light gray cotton batting. Through a few “holes” in the endless blanket, I can see puffy clouds below us – wisps of popcorn and then the ground far below. Today, from up here, everything looks blue.
It reminds me of the other night when I was driving into west North Carolina. Tooling along the two-lane roads at twilight, I came around a curve and the Blue Ridge Mountains were before me – layer upon layer of blue and haze. I passed by a few poofs of what I thought was wood smoke – but realized later it was the fog or scuttling clouds that are so prevalent in that area. All so pretty and ethereal.
Far out in the distance, through my little porthole of a window, there is a thunderhead. It is massive and practically glowing with the sunlight on it. I don’t know what is happening below the cloud cover – but above, it is spectacular!
Eons ago I was flying home from Rhode Island, having dropped Ted off at college for his first semester. During the flight we encountered storm clouds. I’d never been in the air (before or since) amongst such enormous, beautiful clouds. I remember feeling so very tiny. I kept expecting to see angels with harps flitting around – their wings outlined in gold reflecting the sunlight. Due to the enormous clouds around us (and apparently lightning) – we had to make an unscheduled landing in Atlanta and wait out the storms. We sat on the tarmac for 5 hours that day. Thankfully, there was an empty seat between me and my row-mate. And, thankfully, he was a congenial man and a good conversationalist. The time (unlike our plane) flew by. He was rather a rotund man with a pure white, long beard and lovely nature. I often think back on that flight and think I had the good fortune of sharing time with Santa.
I am not a great nor eager flyer. I’m not exactly a nervous or anxious flyer … but I’m more incredulous or perhaps dubious. The idea of flying still makes no sense to me. I understand the dynamics … but it still just seems so iffy and impossible. I would have been the one telling Wilbur and Orville they were crazy!
Airports are a great place to people watch. Today’s parade of hairdos, outfits and tattoos did not disappoint. People are funny creatures. There were the twins … older women with platinum, bouffant hair and enough Coppertone spray tan lotion on them to cover an entire beachside of people. It was not a good look on either of them. But, I guess being twins – if it’s not a good look on one, it certainly won’t be a good look on the other! There was the larger woman with the faces of (presumedly, her own) children tattooed on her arms, shoulders and neck. I thought maybe someone should tell her not to have any more kids cuz she was running out of skin. Then there was the couple with the matching Harley t-shirts on and donning cowboy hats – sweet that they were holding hands down the concourse … and also, extremely annoying that they walked down the middle – impeding all others. The list continued with the oh-so-tight (how did she get them on?) white pants and crop top … the gal with 3 scarves that she could MacGyver into a clothesline or tightrope … the woman with the hair that looked like she had a head of rope coils. I am, of course, perfect so I notice these things!
When I walked into the airport, I was behind a father and (late teen) son. The son looked to have CP – as he had a variance and unsteadiness in his gait – and so, was leaning on his dad … one hand on his dad’s shoulder for support. I watched as their steps were in sync … two moving as one. I also noticed that the dad’s posture was a bit hitched to one side – and he walked a bit tilted – years of having that hand on his shoulder, no doubt. It was all so extremely touching.
As we descended, I reassessed the popcorn clouds that I had seen before as we lowered into their midst. They were more akin to the stuffing that is left on my carpets when a guest dog guts one of the dog toys. Poor Lambchop! They were all soft and airy – not popcornesque at all. The lower we got, the more I felt like if I could open a window, I could touch the trees (instead of just being sucked out)!
For whatever reason, it seemed like a really slow descent into Atlanta. I saw everything from a bird’s eye view … the huge quarry to my left … the city in the distance, much more spread out than I thought it would be … enormous, white-roofed warehouses … fat swaths cut from the forests where power towers marched down the green corridors. As we got even lower, I could make out signs … LA Fitness’s parking lot was jam-packed – everyone must be there because no one is on the highways; they are empty.
After a slight layover … I am now on Flight #2 … Atlanta to Denver. I was expecting another luxurious high vantage point view of the area as we climbed towards the clouds on this flight. I was amiss. Our ascent was much faster than the descent for landing on flight #1. Before I realized it and all too soon, we were above the dog toy stuffing clouds and everything was once again a blur … this time of green. So many trees here! All but the highways were filtered in soft greenness … but the roads stood out below the clouds … wiggly spaghetti strands snaking their way through the trees … towards home.