"But it's a dry heat"

The airport aspect of traveling always intrigues me. I find it unfortunate that every traveler comes to the airport anxiety-filled and frantic. Their flight is the most important and they throw a fit when they are pulled to the side at the security check point to have their pockets inspected. We are all here for the same reason and I imagine that regular airport employees find the sight of it all rather comedic. Like assuring an impatient child that yes, I am listening to you but no, I am not going to jump through hoops to look at your paper cut because it will eventually heal. For now I will pat you on your back and talk to you in a calm demeanor. Now, go to your gate.

You also get a chance to eavesdrop in on goodbye phone calls to loved ones. It’s always, “i love you. I’ll call you when I land”. But you know that the tone and unspoken intent of the conversation is, “know that i love you, if i don't land.”

We hit some pretty rough turbulence on the airplane and it makes me laugh when people push against the ceiling of the plane or grab onto their armrests to support themselves as this is happening. The last thing I want to grasp onto as I am free-falling is the very reason for me free-falling in the first place. At this point I’d rather flap my arms real fast, pull a parachute out of my book bag, or quite simply shoot myself in the face. As the plane was erratically dipping through pockets of air, I felt my stomach in my throat and decided to put on some music, something both reflective and epic. I thought to myself, “if I were to plummet to my death right now, at this very moment – what should the soundtrack be? Ah yes, Sigur Ros.”

I ended up in an exit row, immediately next to the emergency escape door and it was the flight attendants duty to say to me, “ma’am, do you feel confident that you can open this exit door in the event of an emergency?” I had to laugh but assured her that I was indeed, up for the task. She mentioned that there was a manual in my “seat-back pocket” for reference if needed. Isn’t that helpful? How kind of them to offer me reading material in the event that we are nose-diving it for the ground. As I am getting pelted in the face with tiny hamburgers and mini cups of scalding hot coffee, I will be sure to thumb around for the pamphlet so that I can properly escort small children and the elderly out of the door and into the clouds, by Continental standards.

I really think airlines should cut the BS and replace the flotation devices and air masks with shotguns and/or toxic gas vents. Better yet, just equip the pilot with a red button that reads “implode” in the event that there really is no chance for survival.

Luckily Sigur Ros did not end up as my death-track and I made it to my destination in once piece (not counting my fractured foot).

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The most fascinating thing about Arizona is how you can actually see and grasp the sky meeting the ground. The Tri-state area gives off the illusion that the sky soars above the buildings, and only people, buses, billboards and other urban fixtures fill up the spaces in between.

While I love home, it’s refreshing to feel like you are immensely surrounded by air head to toe (and above), allowing you to take deep breaths without hesitation. There are not many towering buildings, and they are all spaced out far and in between. Large homes span horizontally, rather than vertically. It makes you feel like a tiny spec on Earth and your perception of it all is immediately snapped into focus.

Know that I love you, if I don’t land. (and you know which artist to play during my eulogy).