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Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Diary_: Flying to Amsterdam

I love night flights. There is something vaguely romantic about travelling the empty roads to the quiet airport. As I rise above the city the early morning rodent rush begins, I am thankful that I don't do that anymore. From the air you can uderstand why motorways are referred to as artaries. The thick flow of glistening headlights along the M25 feeding smaller slower A road veins. The clots at accidents. It fades as I rise higher, into the murky winter cloud layer. Stale roll, cool coffee. Stars appear in the inky blue sky. The dawn coming quickly as speed toward it. Not long until I arrive. I see the unmistakable flickering yellow light of a flame burning on the sea below, I wonder if that is the exhaust from an oil rig or a ship whose captain is having a bad day. The plane banks steeply around and the majestic dawn slides silently into view. I see many ships as we approach the Netherlands, travelling together along the unseen artaries of the sea. Land ahoy. Cloud thickening now, blue and grey against the black sea below, we sink slowly toward it, so close the plane rumbles against the tops. The flat land spreads out under me. Green with a silver layer of frost, some snow around edges of sqaure fields. It is light now, but I am tired. <Bing> belt up time to land, all electronic equipment off, a baby yells as the pressure changes in her ears. Gear down. Reverse thrust. Runway below, bump rumble. I'm here.

I blog at times like these to help the time go by. Better use of time than reading "news"papers. Also I blog now to record how I feel. It is hard to tear me away from my family, but I must admit I still feel like a kid whenever I fly. I hope that never changes.


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