If you follow any of my adventures (or more accurately my misadventures), you know I travel a lot. So much in fact, it’s probably more realistic to reclaim my hometown as “current airport, plane or hotel” rather than the current status of Houston.
Sitting on my flight from MKE back to IAH (I even speak in airport code which probably isn’t a good sign, but that's Milwaukee to Houston), I realized I don’t fly during the day very often. Mainly because I like to extend my trips on both sides as far as I can. I like to arrive at my destination first thing in the morning and drag out my final day as long as possible (unless I’m coming home from Vegas – that is always a mistake that I never seem to remember while booking my flights). This desire to extend my trips stems from my days back in corporate America when I was forced to take a vacation day I wanted to use it to the full advantage. Even though I’m pretty much on my own schedule now, that routine is kind of ingrained in me so most of my flights are still early morning (when it's still dark or I’m fast asleep on the freezing plane) or long after the sun as gone down. The shades are usually pulled tight because there’s not much to see out the window.
No matter how much I travel there are still a million places I want to go. Looking out my window, I notice all the land we’re quickly flying over. Though it’s the Midwest and not exactly the most glamorous region in all the world, it’s still beautiful land probably filled with hiking trails of every level, the Great lakes (including waterfalls, amazing photo-opps, chances to fish, ski and boat, and stories and memories destined to be had), ridiculously cute bed and breakfast joints I’d imagine going on with the man of my dreams (who is yet to be found, by the way), country dirt roads longing to be traveled on, and so much more.
I have no doubt there are highways for me to get lost on. Boutiques and antique shops with a pair of vintage cowboy boots waiting for me to stumble upon. Chefs waiting to whip up delicious French toast for me to douse syrup on. But this Continental jet is flying over it. Literally. All of it. At super fast speeds.
Too often I’m in a rush to get to my destination or return home to my 23lb teacup Chihuahua to cuddle on the couch and catch up on my DVR. But the stuff I pass over on the way to and fro could be the most exciting adventure yet to be had.
And blonde note – I suck at geography. I couldn’t even tell you where exactly this route is flying over, but I do know it’s probably fun waiting for one of my many misadventures.
.jl.
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