Spring means flowers and of course waiting on the last blizzard of the year. I like to fly. The last time I left the Alliance runway was on Great Lakes. With the question of what airplane will be descending at this time next year I can hear already hear — “The plane (dad) the plane!”
I flew fairly often, at least I thought so, at the age my children are now. Destination? Always the same — SFO. For non-frequent fliers, that is the San Francisco International Airport located near San Bruno Mountain in South San Francisco.
The Bay Area is great — Fishman’s Wharf, Golden Gate Park and French bread straight out of a wood-fired oven. I could go on, but none of these attractions brought me there. It was a modest house on Hill Ave. where my grandparents lived.
Until the summer after my freshman year at AHS (when we drove out and I returned via a DC 10) we had always flown there, first out of Stapleton in Denver, a few times out of Scottsbluff then as an adult Alliance, Scottsbluff and directly out of DIA.
I’ve always liked flying. My favorite spot is just behind the wing, window seat. On a one- or two-prop craft the swift trip to Denver brings a unique look at things most of use here have seen for years (or our whole lives in my case). The Monument is even more impressive from the air. Take a look at the latest subdivision in the Denver metro area. It wasn’t there two years ago. Or was it cloudy. Doesn’t matter.
What’s important is access to the world. From western Nebraska I flew to Japan. That’s a lot of water 30,000 feet under the seat. Japanese travelers do it right though — reclined seats, hot towels, sushi; and that was in coach! What do you do in a wide-body jet over what amounts to a day. I fumbled with chopsticks and now enjoy pulling out my favorite pair to eat home-cooked Chinese. Watched three movies in-a-row over the Pacific. And, I was reminded: there are average, ordinary people just like us over the horizon.