Tag: air travel

Posted in Travel

I wonder where they’re all going

Posted on by William Douthwaite

What a beautiful morning for contrails! The atmospheric conditions were just right to preserve the telltale path of jets heading up and down the east coast of Florida.

Early morning flights take people to business meetings. Families load up the kids to vacation destinations. Couples take off for their honeymoons. Others return home to be reunited with their loved ones.

When I’m up in the air, I look down and wonder if anyone is watching us pass overhead. Unless there’s a nice contrail, I don’t notice all the planes overhead. From the ground, I wonder if anyone is looking down at me. From what I’ve seen, most fliers are asleep or watching a movie, not paying attention to anyone down below.

Flight still amazes me. We can travel so far so quickly. It’s a paradox though. It’s slow getting to the airport, through security, and waiting to board at the gate. But a few hours later we’re in a different country, in a different part of the world, where many speak a different language.

One source says that a million people may be in the air at any given moment. That’s a lot of folks squeezed into metal cylinders miles above the ground!

Posted in Life

“You’re a saint!”

Posted on by William Douthwaite

As I waited for my duffle to make its way around the baggage carousel, an unfamiliar voice said, “You’re a saint!” I looked up but didn’t see anyone I recognized.

“I don’t think I could have put up with all that seat-kicking.” The voice came from a man a few feet away, also waiting for his bags. “I was sitting across the aisle, a row behind you. I don’t know how you endured that for a whole flight!”

My wife and I had just arrived in Dallas on a nonstop flight from Orlando. A family returning from a week long trip to Disney was sitting next to us and behind us. I felt the energy of the two little boys behind us as they ate snacks, played with toys, watched videos, and bounced around for the whole two hour flight. We know what it’s like to travel with little ones, so we weren’t surprised. We’re used to having young grandchildren around, too, so it was just another one of those days. I really didn’t think that much about it.

But it got me thinking: what are the qualifications for sainthood? Was that honor harder or easier to achieve than a flight home from the Magic Kingdom? I learned that there are five steps.

You have to die. The process of becoming a saint begins five years after your death.

You must be a “servant of God.” That seems a bit subjective. It involves an examination of your life and deeds. Witnesses testify to your holiness and virtue. It’s kind of like listing three references for a job.

You must show proof of a life of “heroic virtue.” This means that others have been led to pray because of your life of service and virtue. If you make it to this stage, you attain the title venerable.

A miracle is attributed to prayers made to you. As a citizen of heaven, you can intercede on behalf of others. At this point, you are beatified, that is, you are granted the title blessed.

A second miracle is attributed to prayers to you. However, if you die as a martyr, only one miracle is necessary. A special canonization mass and prayer are spoken, and you are now a saint.

Other than being mortal, or having the patience to fly with children, I doubt if I’ll ever qualify for the title of saint.

Posted in Stories, Travel

Slurp

Posted on by William Douthwaite

On our return flight from Dallas (see Back in the Air), my wife and I had middle seats across the aisle from each other on American Airlines. When I asked at the gate if we could sit together, the agent said, “Sure,” and then quoted me some upgrade costs. No thank you. The direct flight to Jacksonville, FL was just a few hours. How bad could it be?

My seat was between a woman and a young man that I believe were mother and son. I wish they had sat together because the mom had a lot to say to her son, who just wanted to sleep. I brought up a book on my phone’s Kindle app and read until the drinks and pretzels reached our row.

The son asked for a Dr. Pepper. I had some ice water. The mom had a can of tomato juice which she poured over a cup of ice. For the next fifteen minutes, like clockwork, she loudly sipped and slurped her tomato juice.

<slurp>

“Look at this video on my phone. It’s so real.”

<loud slurp>

“It’s so clear.”

<louder slurp>

“Do you want one? We can up grade for free. From 11 to 13.” OK, we’re obviously in the iPhone universe. She had a new 13, he had an 11. (I have a 10, by the way.)

“No thanks.”

<even louder slurp>

“It’s free. You can trade yours in.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need one.”

<still louder slurp>

“What about your other phone? You can trade it in.”

“I’m fine.”

<really loud slurp>

“You could get four or five hundred dollars for it.”

“I don’t need the money. I’m fine.”

<loudest slurp>

“It’s four hundred dollars.”

“I don’t need the money. I’m fine.”

<longer, louder slurp>

“OK. Just let me know.”

<loudest, longest slurp>

She looked out the window. He turned toward the aisle and tried to go to sleep. She wasn’t comfortable for the rest of the flight, about thirty minutes. She pulled her legs up to her chest. She stretched out as best she Over and over and over, about every two minutes.

So they weren’t the most annoying row-mates I’ve ever had. They weren’t the friendliest, either.

As we deplaned, she walked ahead, he lagged behind. She was on a mission to get to baggage claim. He was clearly in no hurry to join her.

I hope you two enjoyed your ride together to your next destination!