Sparks from the Fire

I’m up here at 39,000 feet again – on my way to Cape Town, South Africa.  Groundspeed: 687 Mph – halfway there, 2000 miles to go.

Nothing but ocean below. Night. Outside air temperature minus 70 degrees.  Whoa baby, that’s cold, fast and high. Pretty amazing when you think about it.  Way to go, humans!  You’ve come a long way.

We’re pretty tough on the airlines these days. Truth is, we’re pretty spoiled. Consider the Spanish and English and Portuguese in their little ships.  Consider the pioneers in their wagon trains. Drive across the U.S. even today. It’s a long haul.

I have 15 movies to choose from. The food wasn’t bad, and I didn’t even have to kill it. My biggest worry was the seat next to me. Would it be filled? It wasn’t, so I can put all my stuff around me ‘cause, god knows, it’s a real pain to have to get up and get my computer out of the overhead.

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I woke up this morning with a new family. Babies crying, five year olds running up and down the aisles, moms breast feeding, people sprawled all over the “house” in general disarray – some still sleeping, some just waking up, some already into their morning prayers, some stretching what they could where they could.

I’m on a flight from NYC to Sao Paulo, Brazil and when I went to sleep five hours ago, I was in a flying movie theater; now I wake up to this bustling family of man waking up to another day at 32,000 feet.  The sun pours through the few opened windows as we ride atop a rich layer of frothy white clouds.  There must be an ocean down there somewhere, but if it is, it’s hiding for the moment.

Last night I went to sleep among strangers; this morning we are surprisingly family. Well, after all, we did sleep together. We rode across the sky together.  Few things changed, but now we’re talking to one another – some in English, some in Portuguese – we’re playing with each other’s babies, whereas last night their crying was just a nuisance to us all.

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