Travel stirs something inside of me. Even the simple trips. I think its the combination of mental solitude—locked down in your seat for hours—and the constant change of your environment and people around you. It has an energy to it that everyday life lacks. It’s forced change. It’s good for the soul. It causes me to reflect.

… I’m off …

I say a prayer before every takeoff and every landing. I thank God for my life. It’s an odd ritual, I know, but one that seems to calm my fear of flying. I’m always in awe of the experience of flying. I look out the window and see the ground scream away from me and—in an instant—I’m in the clouds. Imagine how takeoff would make someone feel from 200 years ago. They would feel like a god! Today we experience it with indifference, annoyed that we can’t keep our iPod running during takeoff. Maybe that’s why I pray. To remind myself that my life is fragile and this is magical. This act of flight. I pay my respect to it.

… I’m looking for directions …

People always stop their walk to look up at the Arrivals/Departures board. They are looking for validation that they are on the right path. Going to the proper gate. Going to make it on time. I like watching them do this. I’m not sure why. Our normal life doesn’t always work like the departures board. The markers are never that clear. Or, maybe they are, we just don’t know where to look for them. At least in the airport, we know where to look. Just be prepared for the info to change. Even the best plans change. Yeah, that happens in real life too, doesn’t it?

… I’m looking for my seat …

You make reservations. We take them. Reservations don’t guarantee you a seat. You expect a seat, but it’s only a promise of a seat when you get here. Promises get broken every single day. Get over it. That’s my interpretation of the 3 second look the woman behind the counter gave me. She just let me know that even though I booked my flight 40 days ago, there wasn’t a seat with my name on it. I could have yelled at her. I could have argued. But what would I have told her that she hadn’t heard a thousand times before? She didn’t make the promise. A computer did. She’s just there to make it happen…if she can. I do get mad, but I have to admit, I’ve broken my share of promises too. Who knows what effect it’s had? Promises are words of intent. Action is what matters most. And we are all judged mostly by our latest action.

(And yes, I got a seat. The very last one.)