air traffic control, it’s me..

As a frequent flier, I’ve developed a list of questions that consume me while on the plane, and which I promptly forget as soon as I disembark. But for highly scientific blogging purposes, I’ve tried to retain my ponderings. Here is a list:
*Does everyone think of death when they fly?
*Do flight attendants think about death more than I do, in general?
*Do flight attendants develop a finer appreciation of the view from the sky, or do they become immune to it’s beauty after a while?
*How do pilots fly directly toward the sun?
*What is happening down there?
*If the plane were about to crash, would the pilot tell us, if he knew, or spare us the knowledge of our doom?
*Which would I prefer?
*Do people ever survive plane crashes?
*Are the people around me traveling to their home or away from it?
*Who gets to use this shared armrest?
*Isn’t it weird that we all act naturally when we are in fact FLYING through the air?
*Why are some of those fields down there circular? Is that really space efficient?
*What state are we over?
*Who would choose peanuts as a snack? Honestly, who sits around eating peanuts when not in the air?
*What mountains/lake/river/desert/plain/bay is that?
*Can people recognize specific landscapes from the air?
*Are pilots good at predicting weather?
*How do they know when we’re “coming up on some turbulence?” Do they see it? Isn’t it just air?
When I fly there is a part of me that is sure I’ll never land. Time seems to stop in the air (Einstein says time slows down for a body in motion anyway). Suspended 40,000 feet above the earth, a village of strangers lingers each over their own thoughts: work, faces, anticipations, reunions, farewells, the inevitible, the possible. Even if we don’t crash, I’m certain we’ll never land. Time races away in both directions, expanding the pause until it feels infinate. Sometimes the stillness is tedious, but mostly it’s just strange. Then we descend, land, collect our belongings, report that the flight was fine, but shudder nonetheless. There is a great Jets to Brazil song about being an air passenger. It captures that idea of lingering very well, “If I forgot to say, I love you every day, know that I’m keeping track, in my quiet way… I’ll be thinking of you, when the plane goes down.”
I’ll write more about my trip out East tomorrow. I’m feeling much stronger and my heart is lighter. I think I’m through the worst of it.