What is the sound of one piston slapping?
What is the sound of one piston slapping?

A thing I posted to Facebook 4 years ago when I was doing a different job that paid well but never let me go home...

I complain about travel plenty, and I do miss my home, and the feeling that I know where I’ll wake up next week, but on a half-empty flight, taking off at cloud-obscured-sunset, and headed west, it takes a truely jaded person not to feel wonder when your plane pops above the clouds into a radiant pink and gold early glow, banking into the light with oranges and blues reflected from the aluminum skin of the wings... And then at half a thousand miles an hour proceeds to chase the sun across the sky, turning what would be a 20 minute event were you stationary, into a two and a quarter hour lesson in the colors of the sky. A slow fade into blue and gold, then to deeper blue and orange, and red, then a green flash that lasts minutes, as above it progresses through a grey-ish navy, toward battleship and eventually black, while below the red deepens into an ochre of surprising radiance and forceful delineation with the encroaching night. When, just as the last of the rich, dirty brown light fades and the lights of a city you’ve never been to before are lent a watercolor indistinctness by the raging-hot exhaust and tens-of-thousands of pounds of thrust from the monster turbine just a few feet away from you as you skew sideways into a gust cross wind, only to touch down so lightly yo barely feel it, In a new place, in a new time zone.

At times like this the little voice in the back of my head lets out an awed whisper: “Airplanes are cool...”


Thanks Facebook Memories for remind me that I’m good at choosing jobs that require too damn much of my time.

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