I am not disorganized. But as I travel, I mostly fail to reach the airport on time. Even if I got out of bed at 5 AM for a 10 AM flight, took a shower, packed my luggage and traveled only a few kilometers to the airport, I reach at the very final minute that I could have reached. Then, I scamper to the check-in counter, pick up my boarding passes, flit through the security checkpoints at the final call, and when I nearly tumble into the plane, flustered, out of breath, it seems like a classroom where everybody else are at their seats waiting politely for the lesson to begin, and it’s just me who is terribly late. I feel quite embarrassed.
That apart, I love flying. And since I cannot take to the air on my own (as I do not have wings), I love airplanes. I am thrilled by its first motion dispensing boundless power, its strutting on the runway, and its lifting itself up in the air mightily into a smooth glide. I love the feeling of swooping over the hills, the cities and the landscapes, and cutting through the clouds, as I look out of the window.
As I look around inside, I contemplate that it indeed (always) looks like a classroom of pupils with serene faces, who seem very prepared for the lesson. On my last flight though, I was seated next to someone who looked a bit unprepared, as if having come to the class without completing her homework. I witnessed her closing her eyes and pressing her hands against her ears at take-off. She fidgeted on her seat, crossed her legs, tried to get absorbed into reading a book, and then listening to some music, without much success at either. Next, she lowered the window shade and tried getting a nap. She woke up and declined the refreshments. (I didn’t. I opted for a sandwich (that didn't taste quite like a sandwich) and a bottle of lime juice (that was close to lime juice)). We spoke for a while, and soon, she fidgeted some more, crossed her legs the other way, and started all over again at reading the book. After what seemed like a long, long period, as we were landing, she closed her eyes and pressed her hands against her ears one more time.
At the baggage belt, I helped her claim her red suitcase from many other red suitcases. The task was to look for the green tag on the handle. She appeared relieved, like there was no getting back to the classroom at least for some time.
Walking away, I thought, not everyone loves flying.
