Flying again. I have no idea how many times I have been above the clouds. I used to count for a while, but somewhere after number 35 I just didn’t bother with trying anymore. All the flights are the same, so they just kind of blended together in one picture, spanning over several years. Packing at home at the last minute, unexplainable nervously checking the time and the flight times, again and again. Waiting at the airport. Waiting in the line to board. And then the best part of the flight, sitting in a small space and just feeling uncomfortable and bored to death.
Don’t get me wrong, I love travelling, its just the low-cost airplane experience that sometimes really gets me down. Some flights are ok, I manage to meet somebody new, or a pleasant alternative, I just fall asleep immediately and wake up before landing. This flight is not one of those. Bunch of high-school kids with high-school pitched voices, excited about the flight experience. Innocence is bliss. Some ignorant blondes sitting next to me, they didn’t even bother to say hi or look me in the eyes when they took the seats. Lost the urge to talk to somebody in less than a minute, and that is a rare thing for me.
Ok, enough with first-world bitching, the low-cost flights are actually fucking awesome. Flying to London for 40 Euros equals to the gasoline cost of driving for a couple of hours. And I sure wouldn’t be able to live a fun life between London and Ljubljana without these flights. So I’m gonna ignore for a moment the plastic seat in front of me pushing persistently into my knees and be thankful for my place in time.
I need to really think to remember a lot of my flights, but I surely remember my first time. The curious expectation just before the lift-off, the surprise over the sheer force pushing the plane forward, the stomach falling down while the steel bird is rising quickly into the air. The funny little cars and houses disappearing below and later the astonishment over beautiful mountains and respect towards endless wall of clouds.
The way back was a nightmare. After spending a fantastic week in Scotland, probably the frindliest country in the world, we managed to miss the flight back. Not by much, the plane was still at the airport, but this was before the online check-ins became the norm, so we were faced with a cold reply: “I’m sorry, the check-in closed 15 minutes ago.” The fact that the date read 9/11 most probably didn’t help when we tried convincing the staff to make an exception. Epilogue – sleeping a bit at the airport, flying to Frankfurt, arriving to the dodgy main station in the middle of the night, taking a 12-hour/2-changes train ride back home. I was never so happy to see the Ljubljana sign as that time. Lesson learned the hard way, but isn’t that the best way?
Good side of this flight – I finally had time to write the opening article of my “new” blog. This is not my first blogging experience, but it will most defenitely be the last one. After reaching the magical age of 30 (magic being the realization that the train is just leaving the station and you really hope that the wagon you chose wont be left behind) and finally realizing a desire to work in my own company, I decided to try transforming my thoughts into digital letters for one final time.
Reasons? Same as usual I guess, to try to be recognized by peers, to offer my point of view to anyone who enjoys reading it, to practice writing, to let out steam when needed. The main difference from the previous times being that this time I believe I might have actually something to say.
Will it last? I have no idea. I’m struggling a bit with self-discipline for the last year or so, so this blog might help me create some positive pressure. But at the same time, no guarantee that it wont stop abruptly, no false promises of any kind.
Just… enjoy the ride. The wheels on mine are just touching the ground.