Reflections from the sky

I guess you could say that I am a frequent flier.

Mostly for visits to Texas and during holidays, but still I fly more often now than I ever did growing up. The flight to Dallas is over 4 hours. The flight back to New York is only 3 hours. I'm sure there is some scientific logic for this, but I find it perplexing.

I like the morning flights out of DFW. There are never lines. There's something quite calming about being in a quiet airport. I go through the familiar motions without pausing to think.

I print my boarding pass at the self check-in kiosk using my AA Advantage number that I know by heart. I have my Texas ID ready for the security line. I rarely check luggage anymore with the new fees. Even though I'd rather not deal with my suitcase, no point in paying to check a bag. And carry-on is faster anyway. No waiting on the other end.

I pull my laptop out of my big carry-on bag, set it into a tub with my shoes and toss my baggie of liquids on top. I swing my suitcase onto the conveyor belt. Followed by my coat, bag and bucket. I'm usually faster than the others in line. This morning I skipped the woman in front of me. She was taking too long.

I slip my shoes back on and my laptop back into my bag, grab my coat, pull up the handle on my suitcase and I'm off. I head straight for Starbucks at gate C13. Grande skinny hazelnut latte this morning should do it.

I grab a seat at C15, always C15 for the morning flight. I sip my coffee, check my email, oh yeah, it's Saturday. I don't have any emails to check. So I watch as people gather at the gate. It's blatantly obvious which people are going to New York for a visit and which people are headed back home. Northeasterners don't do a very good job of blending in with Southern travelers. Or is it the other way around?

I board at the end of group 4 even though I'm usually group 5 - I sit as close to the front of the plane as possible. But I'm impatient and I board with group 4. I expertly toss my bag and coat into my seat, carefully set down my coffee and swing my suitcase into the luggage compartment above my row.

I settle in to my window seat. I always choose the window seat. As we take off I like to look out at Texas. I find myself picking out familiar landmarks from the sky. Dallas is in the distance. Lit up by the morning sun. I follow the highway I know to be 121 to find Grapevine Mills, Fellowship Church, and Coppell High School. It's early, none of the stores are open yet, not many cars on the roads. I can see for miles.

It's a beautiful morning. I watch how the sun glimmers and dances on the lakes and rivers below. Except for a few wispy clouds, I can see everything. Cities and towns emerge from the flat green country as we fly. I gaze out into the sunshine and I let my mind wander.

I think about all the times I've flown out of this airport over the past few years. How each time brings a different emotion. I used to think of this as leaving home behind. It made me sad and slightly uneasy, like I was flying away from comfort and into unknown. But now, being LGA bound feels more comfortable, more like I'm heading home. I guess now that I have an established life in the city, leaving Texas doesn't feel so temporary anymore.

I never get tired of watching the New York skyline come into view. I watch as we fly over Pennsylvania and New Jersey. There are more trees than Texas. I see the outline of the shore with sandy beaches and how the Atlantic Ocean stretches out into the distance. We fly over Brooklyn and Queens. The houses are so close together. I notice a group of streets curved into semi-circles close to a park and how easy it is to pick out cemeteries from the sky.

The city sparkles in the distance, just as lovely and magical as ever. The Chrysler Building, the Empire State Building, the cluster of sky scrapers in lower Manhattan. I can't see the Statue of Liberty this morning, we must be flying in a different way than usual because of the wind.

I smile. This feels just as familiar as seeing the Dallas skyline just 4 days ago. Both lit up with the winter sun. Both welcoming me back.

And then we land. And I go through the usual motions of grabbing all my things, thanking the flight attendant and hopping into a cab.

"Where are you going?" the cab driver asks.
"Manhattan please." I say.

I smile. And slip on my sunglasses.