There was a time when I really loved to fly. Maybe it was because I was a late bloomer and had never been in a plane until I was 20 years old. Before that age I had no reason to go anywhere in a hurry. Nor did I have any exotic locations to go to. My travel was mostly to Canada and the Adirondacks.
My first flight was a one-way flight to Florida to rescue someone who had a major panic attack and simply couldn’t drive back to New Jersey. Since then I flew to Hawaii every year and to the West Coast several times a year. I flew in a lot of small planes and helicopters, and even considered becoming a pilot myself. I went through ground school, but left it at that.
I’ve never had a bad flight, but I have had many wondrous ones. I flew so often that I was on a perpetual first class ticket. You could upgrade back then with 10,000 frequent flier miles.
I’ve been seated with some amazing people, particularly David Suzuki, pilots who were deadheading back home, and a scientist who not only had a seat in first class, but an instrument he was delivering to New York has its own seat in first class as well.
I just realized the other day that the last time I went anywhere by air was 1996 and I really don’t miss it. It just isn’t the same, or at least it no longer holds the same allure for me. I don’t mind terra firma one bit.