Air America

Air travel is the tall man’s nemesis. People sometimes ask, “is it a pain to be so tall?”. To which I usually retort, “only when I fly”. Which isn’t always true. I should say, “only when I fly and don’t procure bulkhead or emergency row status”. Note to the enemy: if you plan on torturing me for my countries valuable secrets, place me in a box where I can’t stretch out my legs and within minutes I will divulge the secret numerology of pyramids and draw you a map to where you can find poor man Hoffa’s body.

When flying I usually take the isle seat, stretch out my legs, and order enough booze to zonk myself out proper – waking only when the stewardess barrels her food cart into my protruding shins. I open one eye to see the smirk on the stewardesses face as she politely apologizes for not seeing my size thirteen road blocks.

If, in my flight preparations, I was smart enough to snag bulkhead, then I like to take the window. Surely there isn’t an art gallery in the world that can match the tapestry and design found whilst gazing out the window of a 747 that’s cruising thousands of feet in the air. Both the sky and the ground offer the eyeballs an ever-changing panorama of pattern and humans-meet-nature geometry. The privilege of seeing the world ‘birds-eye style’ is something that surely must border on the spiritual.

And this is why I’m addicted to Google’s satellite maps. It’s like having all the advantages of a window seat while never having to leave the comfort of your own Aeron chair. The booze is cheaper too. This morning I took an amazing trip down the Mississippi River. I started in Lake Itasca and cruised all the way down to the Louisiana Delta, all before I had finished my first cup of coffee. Along the way I saw some great scenery. Particularly around the delta things got pretty crazy. Almost like some strange and hypnotic avant garde oil-on-canvas.