I took a plane home for Christmas.
And I was the only one on the plane.
I had a pilot. And a flight attendant. Who also doubled as the co-pilot.
I walked out to the plane. Right on the tarmac, I imagined that this is what movie stars, heads of state and visitors to the Jurassic Park island felt.
My flight attendant/co-pilot stood by the door. He told me to sit in the furthest back seat, to balance the weight.
I've never felt so heavy in my life. To be extra careful, I put my carry-on on one side of the plane and myself on the other (there were no overhead bins). I hoped my Macbook Pro would offset my pre-holiday snacking.
Co-pilot attendant then walked the short aisle to perform a very intimate safety monologue. If I was casting a play, I would have asked him to read a side and looked down his resume to see his special skills (I hope it doesn't say 'can wiggle ears.')
Then flying happened. Flying.....flying.....flying....flying...........
Did I tell you this plane had propellers?
And seats 15 people?
With no bathroom?
(It's only a 90 minute flight, I can hold it. Also no in-flight beverages, so they are in the clear. Unless folks are not hydrated! Hee-yo! Urine joke!)
My hometown looks like a model town.
It is still too far to touch.
But I was there.
I don't have pictures of Santa greeting me at the door. Or of him air traffic controlling us in. But he was there, holding the air traffic wands, so it happened. Sometimes you just have to believe.