I have always had a thing about airplanes. Yes, call me crazy. But yesterday a bit of my sanity has been restored when I read about someone else that shares the same passion as I do. Well, more of a passion on airports that airplanes but still, I am not alone in this.
thank you, dad.
This passion of mines comes from my dad. Every single weekend he drove us to our island’s airport to watch the airplanes taking off and landing on our tiny runway. He taught how the airplanes worked, the different types of airplanes and what happens when you can’t see shit due to our not so rare sand storms or when the crosswinds are so strong that a plane needs to try to re-land. I think I was already born flying as my parents every year flew several times to the mainland and my dad was always on the go because of his job as a company’s director.
We were not alone on this. Crowds always gathered at a viewing point near the airport where once stood one of our favourite restaurants. When there was news of bad weather everyone came to watch the planes trying to land. I guess we have a bit of American influence here. How else can anyone appreciate the Daytona car races? An accident is always bound to happen and that is why it gathers so many people. And where there is a car accident on the freeway, the car jams due to one-eye-covered-drivers-that-don’t-want-to-see-but-are-already-taking-a-peek are always a certainty.
I got goosebumps and loved hearing the engine roar when the plane had to abort a landing, the fuel breeze that reached us at that viewing point and the thoughts of how scared the passengers might have been. Yes, call me crazy again but I loved that thrill and believe me I went through some plane adventures. Planes are a thing in my hometown and it can probably be named as being a culture. One of our major moments in history was when our runway was doubled in size making it safer to land. Indeed it turned it safer (it was a victory to make it alive every time we landed before this) but the crosswinds are now even worse as the runway was tilted north.
when flying is as natural as walking.
I was brought up fascinated by planes. Planes were the way out of my island for a better life and planes were the way home when I missed my parents so much that I had to book a flight on the same day and get home. Flying was as natural as walking and there was nothing that terrified me doing so.
The excitement of packing (always, always done on the day of my flight; never was good at planning ahead), the cockiness with which I walked past every single stage of the process being a frequent flyer, the joy of picking out magazines to read during the flight, the buzz to pick up comfy clothes and socks to wear, the childishness of watching four movies in a row, the lightness of being up there in the clouds, the can’t-wait-to-explore feeling when you landed on the other side of the world, the curiousness to look out the window, the braveness of not panicking when we hit turbulence (how I loved that; I do think sometimes I was a bit of a masochist but the rush of adrenaline was unbeatable), the sexiness of the engines on full power when we were about to take off.
See you up there soon.