The bad news is that Leipzig has its
first reported case of Coronavirus. The good news is they haven't
panicked & shut down the city yet.
While keeping an eye on the spread of
the pandemic and keeping an even closer eye on cancellations of
public events like soccer matches (they're letting a crowd in for today's Champion's League match against Tottenham, so I'm optimistic), I was able to get a little work
done on our upcoming trip to Germany this weekend and started
thinking a strange thought..That thought?
That I actually get excited when I get
to fly somewhere. I know; it's strange. Most people look upon
flying somewhere with the same enthusiasm they would have looking
forward to a root canal. But not me. For some reason, even on those
days when it takes 22 hours to fly from Munich to London to Chicago
to Marquette, I actually get excited that I'm gonna be up in the air
soon.
Go figure.
I don't know why I always so look
forward to flying. I just do. And before you think I'm totally
insane, know that I am fully aware of the hassle of flying. I know
what it's like having to stand in long security lines. I know what
it's like losing luggage. I know what it's like when some idiot
sitting in front of me decides to recline their seat as far back as
it goes just as soon as the plane takes off. And I know first hand
what it's like having to make a short connection or re-book a
canceled flight.
Yet, I still look forward to doing it.
I suppose, if I had to think about it,
that maybe it's because I like the romance of flying. Not romance as
falling head over heels in love, and not romance as in joining the
Mile High Club, but just the “romance” of doing something out of
the ordinary and going somewhere special. Maybe I like it because
flying is a gateway to an adventure. And that's true. But it still
wouldn't account for the fact that I even enjoy the flights home
after the “adventure” is finished. I still enjoy boarding the
plane, spending hours gazing out the window and watching the world
slip by below me, and I still enjoy the rhythm of life that's unique
to an airport.
I can't explain why. I just do.
Ask me again at the beginning of May,
when something may have happened on our three-stop flight to Berlin,
either because of the Coronavirus or during our stop in London, where
Brexit just went into effect and the country's not playing too well
with the rest of Europe. But you know what? Even someone strange
and/or inconvenient were to happen, even if I spent a lot of time
afterward grumbling about it, I'd probably still harbor a weird,
secret wish--
That I'd be able to fly again, and fly
again soon.
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