Flight 667 to Atlanta

I don’t recall what age I started flying alone. I don’t remember where I was going, but I remember thinking that the clouds were in reach. Nowadays, I board the first flight out, am grateful for 15 minutes of sleep if I’m flying domestic, and don’t think twice about the cotton candy like water drop and ice crystal mixture.

My neighbor on today’s flight, a young man of five decked out in a bow tie and a tri-colored plaid fedora, flew unaccompanied today.  He was in awe of everything around him.  After a thorough review of the safety brochure with assistance from the patient woman in the window seat, he gave a real time report of his adventure using the US map on the back of his drink napkin to for reference.

I kind of envied my little plane friend’s zeal for life and sense of exploration. What would make me feel as if I am on the edge of my seat chartering my very own independent adventure? There has to be something that I am passionate about so much that I always feel like I’m on cloud 9.

This blog is the first step to figuring that out. In the meantime, I checked out the back of my drink napkin and found a new place to visit.