I always choose the window seat. I like to look out and see what’s happening. Below JFK is Jamaica Bay, where I fish for striped bass in the spring and the fall with my friend Joel. If his boat gets too close to the runway the coast guard (or maybe it’s the airport police) quickly comes over (their boat is fast) and sends us away.
It’s nice to fly from New York to Los Angeles. Eastern cities give way to the plains before the mountains. and then the coast. And, at least from this height, it’s a good country. When you fly to Milan you usually wake up and open the window and see the Alps which, somehow, are right there. The sun reflects off of the vivid white snow and it’s quite a sight.
Flying down to the Bahamas you’re along the coast most of the way. The water seems to get bluer as you go farther south but that may just be my imagination. When we fly on to the island where we fish we can see the ocean is now variable—there are boats and mangroves and sandy islands. Then there are the pale blue shallow flats where we’ll fish and it’s impossible not to get excited.
Coming into London I’m always surprised how green the countryside is. It feels closer to the city than I expect which is reassuring to me. If you fly over the city itself you’re reminded that it really is a city on a river and that’s good too. When you’re lucky to fly right over Manhattan the city looks tall and impressive and you might be able to make out your apartment building. Bless the grid!
Flying into one of the airports in Patagonia, like San Martin or Esquel, you can’t believe the rivers. Some are wide and impressive, some small and snaking. All are impossibly clear. It’s very different from returning to Buenos Aires, and the Aeroparque, the little domestic airport right in the immense city on water where no trout would ever live.
The committed road trip remains one of the best ways to understand space. And it’s true that airplanes collapse our sense of distance. But flying—even after the lines, the chaos, the neck pillows, the sweatpants—can still be a good thing. I still like seeing what’s out there. We’re so used to being the center of our own itinerary, a glowing spot on Google Maps, devoid of perspective. Looking down from the air is a reminder that the world is still bigger than we’ll ever know.
I’d also like to praise the simple pleasures of the Amtrak Northeast Regional. About once a month I take what I like to think of as the longest possible New York commute-starting at 6:20am from Boston Back Bay Station and returning on the 7:50pm-and the sights can’t be beat. Stone fences and horse pastures leading into Rhode Island fishing towns and seaside Connneticut before terminating with the New York City skyline. Even better in winter, when I board the train in pitch darkness and watch the sunrise over New England.
OMG wearing a neck pillow around the airport is indeed depraved behavior.