Lift off

There's nothing quite like the moment when the airplane lifts off.

I like to sink back hard into my seat and close my eyes as the engines roar and the plane picks up speed. As the pressure of the acceleration hugs me tighter and tighter, I always think I can concentrate really hard and pinpoint the exact moment when the wheels leave the ground, by feel alone, without looking. But it's always too exciting and just before liftoff, my eyes fly open because I don't want to miss the view. The ground shrinks away quickest within the first five seconds after liftoff, and if you aren't careful, you'll miss it.

As I'm sitting, pre-takeoff, listening to the flight attendant describe safety features that flash me back to my childhood, my mind wanders. What would I do in the event of oxygen loss, or an emergency evacuation? Would I get all panicky, or would my survival sense kick in and keep me calm? But a crash is highly unlikely. A shiver runs up my spine at the possibility of a terrorist or an international super-villain being on board. Then I shake myself. I watch too many spy shows.  The flight attendants are done now, and we are just waiting to take off. My mind wanders again. I wonder what it's like to be a flight attendant. Would I enjoy a job like that?

But when the plane taxis to the runway and starts to move faster and faster, all of that is forgotten. For a brief moment, nothing else exists but me and the incredible laws of physics giving me the only superpower I've ever daydreamed of having.

As I'm sitting a couple hours into the flight at about 40,000 feet, cramped between the window and the impossibly fidgety man sitting next to me, I give up on the travel magazine. An hour ago, it seemed a lovely alternative after 23 games of blackjack on the mini-screen in front of me. But when you've re-read the same sentence five times and still don't register what it says, you know it's time to let it go back into its pocket on the seat back in front of you, and make life easier for both of you. There are still clouds outside of the window, just like there were two hours ago. And the movie selection hasn't changed either. So I have been traveling for 10 hours, and I do have another long layover and a third flight to catch after this one, so I should probably try to rest. Now, how do I sleep in a chair that only reclines about 3 inches? Maybe if I tilt my head just so... no, that hurts my neck. Maybe if I unbuckle my seatbelt and turn with my side against the seat and my knees against the wall of the plane... nope. Maybe if I slouch back and scootch my tailbone forward I can rest my folded legs on the seat in front of me... okay, my chiropractor would freak out, but it's comfortable and it will work for at least a little while. My muscles relax and my eyes close. The guys behind me are speaking Russian. It sounds like home, and the words are familiar, even though I have forgotten what half of them mean. Amsterdam can't be their final, and the Russian speaking world is a big place. I wonder if they are headed to the same city I am...

I wake up to the flight attendant's voice. With a cart of breakfast trays in front of her that look delicious, she's inquiring of the gentleman two seats in front of me whether he wants cream in his coffee. Perfect timing to wake up. I'm almost next!  I somehow find a way to stretch every major cramped spot in my body without leaving my seat.  Nope, the cabin is chilly. Keeping the blanket on. I unlatch my table from the seat-back in front of me, and contemplate whether I want tea or juice with breakfast. Tea, definitely tea. Now that I have two hours of sleep behind me, I feel incredibly sharp mentally. Sharp enough to think fully formed thoughts, like how remarkable it is to be at 40,000 feet and in a livable environment. What's this container? Ooh, yogurt. And how in less than a day I'll be entering another life. One I've never lived before. One I've been planning and looking forward to for years. As soon as my last flight touches down in Almaty, it will start. But with yet another flight ahead of me, right now, above the clouds, so far removed from the world, I'm still in transition. And I'm grateful for every cramped boring minute of it. I'll use the time to breathe, and brace myself for what's about to happen.

Because when that last plane touches down and I step off onto the tarmac, I will be in the moment of a different lift-off.  Into a new chapter of my life. And I if I'm not braced for it, I'll miss the first five seconds.

And that's something I won't be able to get back.