Infrequent Flyer

I used to be a Frequent Flyer.  At least once a month I’d board a plane in Orange County, CA, headed east, usually to Washington, D.C. or to Hartford, Connecticut … sometimes both.   I almost always flew American Airlines and accumulated over 2 million frequent flyer miles.  I’d accumulate miles so fast that I never flew coach, nor did Muri and I when we traveled for pleasure.  That is very easy to get used to, especially the free drinks and wine.  I’d sometimes find myself flying in more ways than one.   I became somewhat of an airport elitist, annoyed by those who held up airport lines because they didn’t know what they were supposed to do or because they were dragging along a gaggle of noisy kids.  I used my frequent flyer miles to join the Admiral’s Club where I could hide out with other airport elitists … and I complained loudly when some of them began to bring their noisy kids to the Club.  They even began to use their miles to bring the kids into first class.  The nerve.   But the truth is, once I was airborne, I enjoyed flying.  I never got tired of looking out the window, seeing this lovely country of ours from 30,000 feet and sights like a moon reflected on the great lakes or a lightning storm seen from above.   I found that I worked better, wrote better and thought better at altitude, and if some noisy kid or loud inebriated businessman bothered me, well, there was always my Bose Noise Cancelling Headphones and Layla played loud enough to drown them out.

The last time I flew, Muri and I were on our way to Maui to celebrate her birthday.  Two years ago.  Tomorrow when we take to the air, we won’t be in the first class cabin.  We will be in coach, fortunately in an exit row with some extra legroom. We’ll pick up a carry-on lunch in the airport instead buying a dried out sandwich on board.  But my best friend will be in the seat next to me and, once the noise cancelling headphones go on … and I choose, say, Acoustic Alchemy on my smartphone (in Airplane mode, of course), I’ll be productive again at altitude.  I’ll probably write a few posts and do some reading.  Maybe meditate, which these days is often of the chin-on-chest variety (for those less spiritual, that would be a nap).   And when we land, we’ll be seeing two of our favorite friends, Rita and Barry.   I’m now Infrequent Flyer, an elitist no more.  But when you’re on your way to see old friends, who the hell cares?

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Tags: feeling older, flying, friends, gratitude, humor, love and marriage, postaday

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