lift off!

I have to say, for all the times I grunt and complain about airport employees, today I am very impressed with the people at Madison's Northwest. (update: Northwest in Detroit? that's another question... as of 24 hours after mon arrival, they still haven't sent my bags!) In Madison, they did everything right, it seems (except for the one gal at the ticket counter who, in the course of over one hour, took care of two people… oh, and this was the first class line). ANYways, for the first time in a very long time, I felt immediately compelled to write. Here's how it all went down.

The captain himself came out into the waiting area and explained that we needed 1600 feet of clearance before takeoff. His plan was to take the plane out onto the runway and wait for that window of opportunity. So we boarded, quickly. Most everyone figured out that there were plenty of seats on the plane and that we could sit just about everywhere… everyone except for this, well… let's start a new paragraph. He deserves it.

Five foot eight, very generous around the waist, red curly hair, and a black carry-on satchel with white piano keys printed on it. He wore an olive green turtle neck, tucked into his brown corduroys, with a nice strong brown leather belt. Rosy red cheeks and a grunt as he lifted his piano bag into the overhead bin, he needed to sit in HIS seat, the one tiny seat next to an I've-got-it-together young Importance-of-Being-Earnest wanna-be with the argyle sweater, black hair swooped back, red rimmed glasses, cute jeans, shiney black shoes, and his cell phone permanently attached to his right ear as he perused the offerings in the Sky Mall Magazine. Earnest, ever so polite, handled the situation very well. He mentioned some excuse as to why he would move up a seat and continued his conversation and perusing. Ernest eventually ended up being joined by a cute 30-something gal with a tiny waist, cream cable knit sweater, and class written all over her Coach bag. All was well. But were we going to get lift off?

A few more stragglers came on board, like us, a hopeful look in their eyes, they quickly scanned the plane and found a seat. We taxied out onto the runway, and then sat. Nobody gave up hope and sure enough, 10 minutes later we heard "Flight Attendants, prepare for takeoff." I was never so thrilled. This is too good to be true! Just imagine: all the cup-half-empties were on coach buses to Minneapolis, Milwaukee, Chicago and even Detroit (that's an 8 hour drive withOUT fog!). There were about 40 of us on this plane, and we had liftoff! And what a liftoff it was. The captain used that method of revving the engines while holding onto the brakes so we literally took off in what seemed to be an instant.

Here's the cool part. Think back about the foggy day, the foggy beginning to my Rennes experience, the foggy idea why I was doing this in the first place. We took off like a jet (duh) and quickly saw the lights below dim under the haze of December's snow finally melting. Within just a few minutes, we were in the thick of it all. Pea soup. I sat there, staring out the window, happy to finally be off the ground yet still a bit lifeless about what was in store. Then it happened.

We rose through and then above the fog. Like a flash of gunpowder, the horizon lit up in reds & oranges as the sun was setting beyond the clouds. It was so amazing I gasped, then turned and tapped my seat partner on the arm and told her she had to look. She was glad I did. It really was beautiful, and inspirational, I should add. Inspirational because maybe it was… wait, not 'maybe'… here I am talking about hopes, and optimism, and fog and red skies and I write 'maybe'? It was definitely a sign of things to come.

A beautiful horizon that I will share with you, and especially Mark.

You see, for over 4 years now, we've traveled together. Mark - always in a fog of his own during these flights (if you didn't know, he gets a bit Rain Man-ish about flying) - needs me to interrupt his planning to point out the tiny ant-like people below, the Capitol building, Lake Michigan, and the Midwest landscapes spread out like quilts, more beautiful from the sky then from the ground. So this red horizon lights up in front of me and my first impulse is to turn and point it out to the person sitting next to me. That should have been Mark. I already miss him.