Air Travel
You begin to see things at 35000 feet you don't see from our usual perspective somewhere between five and six off the ground.
People disappear.
As you look down on the earth below, you see the evidence of humanity, but finding humans is impossible. Cities are clusters of boxes, lines of roads, and sometimes clouds of smog hanging above the boxes. Over rural landscapes, you see the weaving lines of highways and railways. Sometimes you discern the movement of one of the miles long freight trains on the plains, but even on the roadways, you are too high to see actual cars or trucks. You see the geometric blocks of cultivation and the circles of irrigation.
For me, I find it makes me more aware of the people in the plane. These are representatives of the denizens who made those marks below. A plane is a small community. Flying to and from California, it is as diverse as the society beneath us. The well-to-do are sequestered in front, receiving special attention and rewards for paying well. They sit in flying recliners kind of like the ones at home. They get actual meals on a flight going across the country. The rest of us mix and mingle behind them. Families try to cluster together, but sometimes find themselves scattered through a plane. Some fliers are talkative and gregarious, making new friends with whomever sits next to them. Some are sleepers, miraculously losing consciousness almost as soon as they settle in. Some glue themselves to the window, preferring outside to inside. Most plug into a smart device, watching or listening to something for the journey. Booksellers need not fear for the future if it is up to flying public--almost everyone reads. Back in coach, we eat what we brought, sip the beverage of our choice, and nibble the pretzels handed out for free. Almost everyone keeps most of their most precious belongings near at hand, stuffing the overhead bins with what used to be suitcases and floor under the seat with everything else. We are a kaleidoscope of colors, ages, seemingly pretty balanced between men and women, and remarkably able to cope with whatever chaos enters the trip.
For there will be chaos.
Sometimes it is as minor as a bumpy ride--the wind refusing to smooth out for us as we sail along. Other times it is more so--one delayed flight throws an entire itinerary into ridiculousness--and it does not even have to be a flight we are actually on. Sometimes it is an underestimation of just how long it takes to get from Gate A to Gate B in different parts of an airport. Sometimes it is baggage that follows its own itinerary. Sometimes it is a restless child in Seat 4A.
And sometimes it is what I experienced in Charlottesville--a tiny airport that serves four major airlines--one building eight jets all leaving about the same time. You boarded by going down a ramp to the outdoors where an agent directed you to your plane. My flight to Charlotte was about twenty minutes late boarding, meaning we would board simultaneously with the flight to Philadelphia. First, the gate agent called for Charlotte, sending the first wave of passengers down the gangway of the single gate serving both flights. Then, word came from the mouth of the gate that she was supposed to send the Philly folks down the ramp. So, all the Charlotte folks had to clear the ramp so the Philly folks could go. Then, word came that, no, it was Charlotte boarding first. Repeat the swirling exchange of people on the ramp. Then, no, it was right the first time---...........----then, no, it wasn't.......finally, the passengers lined up inside on their own, Philly to the right, Charlotte to the left, alternating who went down the ramp to get on the two waiting planes. As far as I know, everyone got on the right plane.
We deal with the chaos. Being in God's image, we order it.
At 35000 feet, you see nature as it is--no river runs straight, no mountain range is symmetrical, and no cloud looks like another. The cities, roads, and farms show our imposed order.
For the most part, we do so inside our little worlds of an airplane. Fortunately, I have never been on a flight that made CNN or the New York Times. I never want to be. We tend to fix on those flights, forgetting the thousands that go exactly where they were supposed to without a single person being hauled off, kicking and screaming. We are far more prone to order chaos than we give ourselves credit for being able to do.
Keep that in mind.
We can be instruments of peace, even God's peace.
People disappear.
As you look down on the earth below, you see the evidence of humanity, but finding humans is impossible. Cities are clusters of boxes, lines of roads, and sometimes clouds of smog hanging above the boxes. Over rural landscapes, you see the weaving lines of highways and railways. Sometimes you discern the movement of one of the miles long freight trains on the plains, but even on the roadways, you are too high to see actual cars or trucks. You see the geometric blocks of cultivation and the circles of irrigation.
For me, I find it makes me more aware of the people in the plane. These are representatives of the denizens who made those marks below. A plane is a small community. Flying to and from California, it is as diverse as the society beneath us. The well-to-do are sequestered in front, receiving special attention and rewards for paying well. They sit in flying recliners kind of like the ones at home. They get actual meals on a flight going across the country. The rest of us mix and mingle behind them. Families try to cluster together, but sometimes find themselves scattered through a plane. Some fliers are talkative and gregarious, making new friends with whomever sits next to them. Some are sleepers, miraculously losing consciousness almost as soon as they settle in. Some glue themselves to the window, preferring outside to inside. Most plug into a smart device, watching or listening to something for the journey. Booksellers need not fear for the future if it is up to flying public--almost everyone reads. Back in coach, we eat what we brought, sip the beverage of our choice, and nibble the pretzels handed out for free. Almost everyone keeps most of their most precious belongings near at hand, stuffing the overhead bins with what used to be suitcases and floor under the seat with everything else. We are a kaleidoscope of colors, ages, seemingly pretty balanced between men and women, and remarkably able to cope with whatever chaos enters the trip.
For there will be chaos.
Sometimes it is as minor as a bumpy ride--the wind refusing to smooth out for us as we sail along. Other times it is more so--one delayed flight throws an entire itinerary into ridiculousness--and it does not even have to be a flight we are actually on. Sometimes it is an underestimation of just how long it takes to get from Gate A to Gate B in different parts of an airport. Sometimes it is baggage that follows its own itinerary. Sometimes it is a restless child in Seat 4A.
And sometimes it is what I experienced in Charlottesville--a tiny airport that serves four major airlines--one building eight jets all leaving about the same time. You boarded by going down a ramp to the outdoors where an agent directed you to your plane. My flight to Charlotte was about twenty minutes late boarding, meaning we would board simultaneously with the flight to Philadelphia. First, the gate agent called for Charlotte, sending the first wave of passengers down the gangway of the single gate serving both flights. Then, word came from the mouth of the gate that she was supposed to send the Philly folks down the ramp. So, all the Charlotte folks had to clear the ramp so the Philly folks could go. Then, word came that, no, it was Charlotte boarding first. Repeat the swirling exchange of people on the ramp. Then, no, it was right the first time---...........----then, no, it wasn't.......finally, the passengers lined up inside on their own, Philly to the right, Charlotte to the left, alternating who went down the ramp to get on the two waiting planes. As far as I know, everyone got on the right plane.
We deal with the chaos. Being in God's image, we order it.
At 35000 feet, you see nature as it is--no river runs straight, no mountain range is symmetrical, and no cloud looks like another. The cities, roads, and farms show our imposed order.
For the most part, we do so inside our little worlds of an airplane. Fortunately, I have never been on a flight that made CNN or the New York Times. I never want to be. We tend to fix on those flights, forgetting the thousands that go exactly where they were supposed to without a single person being hauled off, kicking and screaming. We are far more prone to order chaos than we give ourselves credit for being able to do.
Keep that in mind.
We can be instruments of peace, even God's peace.
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