I know some people don’t particularly love to fly (my mom would fall into this category) and some people totally loathe flying (I have a good friend who falls in this category, but I won’t out her here).
I, however, love to fly. I like researching flights and picking a good deal. I like going to the airport (particularly the Austin airport which is so lovely and small and clean and wonderful and has short security lines generally) and I love our tradition of stopping at Subway just outside the airport.
And I particularly like getting on the plane, plopping down in the window seat (I always get the window seat because Bart is nice), taking off my shoes and having several solid hours to read.
I like watching the city disappear below me and then landing in a new city.
I love the rush of take off and the bouncing when you land. I even secretly enjoy a bit of turbulence.
So yes, I find the traveling part of traveling almost as enjoyable as the being there part of traveling.
And in a few years when I’m planning to travel by plane with one or two small children, I’ll probably reread this entry and wish to stab myself in the eye because the words “relaxing” and “enjoyable” will no longer be in my “traveling by plane” vocabulary.
(Also, I wrote this entry on Thursday and set it to post on Friday and wouldn’t it just be so ironic if the plane trip that I took on Thursday night didn’t go well and I died or something?? I am so so hopeful that when you read this, I am still alive).