Am I weird in that I actually like flying?
As Loraine and I are getting ready to (hopefully) head to Germany in just over a month, I find myself actually getting excited that I get to fly somewhere soon. 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 when faced with a TSA slowdown and the fact that it takes 20-some hours to get where we're going, 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. And although I've never had to deal with a situation like someone I know had to last week, when her Sunday night flight from Detroit to Marquette didn't actually make it to Marquette until Wednesday night), 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 in mid-May after we've experienced whatever's gonna happen during our flights to Europe and back. But you know what? Even if something bad 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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