Perspective

For some reason, I've always been fascinated with airplanes. Maybe it's because I've only been on one a handful of times - the novelty hasn't really worn off yet. I know the scientific reasoning behind an airplane, but even still, the artsy-fartsy, whimsical side of my brain often takes over, and flying takes on a magical vibe. 

On sunny days, looking up into the bright blue sky and seeing a jet plane streaking across the sky a thousand miles away always made me happy and hopeful. For me, planes mean going on a trip to somewhere too far away to get to in a car. If you're going all that way, it's gotta be fun, no? 

I often look into the sky to see a plane and think about all of the people on it. I make up stories (in my head of course) about who they are and where they might be going. A tropical vacation, a European getaway, a business trip to Philadelphia. With airplanes, the possibilities seem endless, and nothing seems beyond reach. 

My flying experience is pretty limited. I went to Europe on a class trip, and I've flown to Toronto and New York. I've even flown in a bush plane in Northwestern Ontario on a tour, taking off and landing on a lake. But, being about 13 and fearless at the time, the only thing I remember is the 10-year-old boy beside me retching in his tiny, personal barf bag. 

A few weeks ago, I wrote a story for the paper about a program that allows young kids to explore the world of aviation for free. One of the pilots I interviewed took me up on a tour of the area to "let me get a real feel for flying."

It was exhilarating, breathtaking, and terrifying, all at the same time. 

The pilot, Yvon, was wonderful, and took the local TV reporter up as well. He explained every step in takeoff and landing to ease our nerves. As we flew, he asked Lauren if she wanted to take the wheel. As she tried to steady the plane, I felt like I was on a roller coaster. 

"Whoa, we just gained about 300 feet," he said, laughing. HA freaking HA! Yvon's son, a seasoned flier, was sitting beside me, and I'm sure he had fingernail marks on his arm after the flight from me squeezing the hell out of it. I kept asking him if what we were feeling, the turbulence, was ok, to the point where he'd look at me after every bump and dip and say, quite casually, "NORMAL!" Really, kid? Because it feels like we're about to plummet to our fiery (albeit totally cool) deaths.

As I gazed out the window, everything looked so beautiful. Trees and lakes as far as the eye could see. The only colours visible for miles were deep, rich greens and sparkly blues. The sunshine glinted on the lakes like diamonds. 

While I was up there, soaring above the world, I had a thought. What if all of the people who complain about logging companies cutting down trees in Northern Ontario went flying over our forests and got a glimpse of our lush, green, never-ending wilderness. Would they still say there are no trees left? 

Just as we flew over Pop's house, (we flew over Pop's house! How cool is that?) the nausea started to set in. Whaaaat is this? I thought. I'm a cultured, experienced flyer! This is NOT happening! Turned out it was. Turned out that also? Yvon didn't have barf bags. We were flying in his private, family plane, and his family NEVER gets sick. 

The remainder of the flight was spent biting the inside of my cheeks and concentrating mega hard on not vomiting all over the poor pilot and his very patient son.

I tried to listen as Yvon pointed out all of the open-pit mines we flew over, and explained the landing protocol. The word landing never sounded so sweet. 

To some people, this flight might seem like a minor perk, but to date, this is one of the best days at work. Even though my stomach jumped, moaned, and rumbled, I managed to keep it together and stay calm, cool and collected. Minus the squeals of excitement and random screams of terror.  

Even with the nausea and feeling of impending death, it was so, totally, uber worth it.  

I'd do it again in a heartbeat. 

After reading this post, WHO WANTS TO GO FLYING?