Up in the Air

I took a flight yesterday. Well, more like two flights to the west side of things for a little vacation. But this post isn't really about my trip..per se...as much as it is about the actual flight.

I was born on a plane. Well, not really. But I flew a lot as a kid. I lived in a military family so we flew a lot. I even used to fly cross-country alone when I was younger to visit my dad. No biggie. I had my walkman, my radio-recorded mix tape, my Gameboy, and some other random things to occupy my time. I was good.

Somewhere in college my flying experiences changed a bit. Take offs and landings were a bit harsh and turbulence really shook me up. I'm not sure where this came from exactly, but it happened. It didn't stop me from flying-but my stomach would be in knots the night before. Crazy indeed. But the thought of extended flights (like 28 hours) became a little frustrating.

Something changed yesterday though. At about 38,000 feet in the as we experienced some "rough air" and my stomach wasn't jumping...I realized that I was fine. I'd be fine. I can't really explain it but in that moment I felt free. Like free to experience things and not be hindered by my issues with flights. In that moment, I was ready to go on an adventure. Not just in the sense of flying but to not be hindered by my own thoughts about rationalities of things.

Eh...Jaz...you still got that flyer from the city paper?