First Flight

When Media Girl visited her brother last week, she flew from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh. It was the first time she had flown on her own and she was a little nervous. Her nervousness wasn't helped by a weather front that caused a three-and-a-half hour delay in her departure.

I remembered back to my very first flight. I wasn't flying alone, but it was my first time above the billowy clouds.

As with Media Girl's recent experience, my flight departed several hours late.

Once airborne, I soon fell asleep to the rhythmic bumps that reminded me of car travel (the click clack of tires on seams in the roadway always puts me to sleep in seconds).

When we reached our destination, many of the passengers commented on what a terrible, turbulent flight it had been.

I didn't understand what the problem was - the flight had seemed quite peaceful to me. Not having flown before, I had just assumed the little bumps were normal.

The trip home was a smooth flight.

I liked the bumpy ride better. The rhythm made it feel like progress was being made. The smooth ride home seemed interminable.