The Miracle of Flying in the Modern World

When I was younger, in elementary school and some of middle school, I wanted to be a pilot. I read countless airplane books, spent many hours flying in Microsoft Flight Simulator, and snuck a peak into the cockpit when I could. To my young mind, planes were a mystifying concept — a behemoth mechanical bird that takes you anywhere on earth in a matter of hours! This fact is one our modern world takes for granted, but to earlier generations it must have been nothing short of magic.

My desire to have a less exhausting and mobile career eventually pushed my pilot ambitions aside, but my love for flying has never diminished. From the moment I first stepped on a plane at the age of three to today, the enchanting experience of flight still feels like the first time. I have my own traditions — I have to sit in the window seat, flip through SkyMall (RIP) and the airline’s magazine, etc. Then comes takeoff. I listen for flaps to extend during taxi, the familiar roar of the engine at full throttle, the moment all wheels leave the ground. In a matter of minutes the world becomes a miniature version of itself. It makes the window peeker feel like a god. Because despite what nature intended, humans have mastered the craft of aviation, evolution be damned.

I love flying because it demands you recognize how big the world really is. As cars become toys and entire cities turn into scattered gray blankets, you come to appreciate the rock we live on and how we affect it. Every time I approach La Guardia and see the long stretch of Manhattan skyscrapers I’m reminded how each is a little monument to human ingenuity. Sometimes you glance out and see nothing but endless water or thick layers of clouds — a powerful exhibition of the vastness of mother nature. In a way, flying is akin to a moving museum. Watching the earth zoom beneath you can be as intriguing as the destination itself.

When the tray tables come up and trash is collected, the final approach is near. The flaps extend once again, the landing gear grinds out beneath you, and the world gets closer and closer. I like to think I can sense the pilot’s approach as the runway nears. Some touch down perfectly, others sway slightly, and others bounce a bit, but a successful landing is reached nonetheless. The miracle of flight has come and gone again.

I realize I’m in the minority when I say I enjoy flying. For most people it’s just another hassle full of delays, stress, cramped space, and crying babies. I’m no exception. There have been trips where the inconveniences of flying got to me. But one look out the window and all worries are washed away yet again. I once again live vicariously through the pilots commanding the air.

Next time you find yourself in the air, I challenge you to appreciate it. Sit in the window seat (unless you are deathly scared of flying or get severe motion sickness), peek out every once in awhile, and realize the miracle that is happening right before your eyes. After all, as comedian Louis CK said, “you’re sitting in a chair… in the sky!”