From 35,000 Feet With Love

I’m sitting in an airplane somewhere over Canada at around 35,000 feet on my way back to the sand. I would have been over the US but I wanted to wait for everyone to go to sleep so I wouldn’t offend anyone with the half naked woman on my desktop… Anyway…

Part of me wanted to stay in the relative safety of my home, where I could sleep in my own bed. But a far stronger part of me is excited to get back out there. It’s not the same excitement that I felt the first time. The time before was like anticipating your first kiss. The adrenaline courses through your body and you wonder what it’s going to be like, what you’ll feel, how it’s going to be. A million thoughts running through your mind, except you have 30 hours of travel time to think about it. This time it’s different, I know exactly what to expect, I know what I’m in for and I know how tough it can get.

The monotony is what will drive you nuts. The seemingly endless cycle of days, strung together like a never-ending strand of white Christmas lights. Every day you’ll wake up to the same cycle, no weekends to break up the weeks, and no option for a vacation. Lights on at 0730, leave for work 0745, arrive at work at 0800, eat lunch at 1230, eat dinner at 1830, go home at 2000, go to sleep around 2230 and wake up the next day and do it all over again. I probably couldn’t tell you the day of the week most days, nor could I tell you the date. And at any point your day could go south and your lights put out, along with the rest of the strand.

By the way, I haven’t mentioned today how much I hate flying coach on international flights…. I’m going to take a little break before I go on a senseless tirade about the person in front of me…

Alright, I’m back… Don’t hate me, I’m going to be spending the next 5 months sleeping in a 20 man tent in the middle of the desert, I think I have the right to fly to hell in comfort. Unfortunately upgrading was going to cost more than I was willing to pay. Continuing on with what I’m actually writing for…

So I bet you’re wondering why I’m so excited about going back after all those bad things. The best way to sum it up is that I want to be there with the people. If you watch the news you get a view from 35,000 feet of the war, but if you’re there you get to know the people and you get to befriend the people. I come to love people pretty easily, not like “I love you, I want to marry you” love but more like “I love you man…” kind of love. If you love someone you don’t want them to be in harm’s way alone, and I’ll be damned if something happens to them while I’m gone.

So there you have it. I might be completely delusional but at least I mean well. Now all I have to do is survive the next 24 hours before I’m finally done travelling and back in the relative safety of our base in the middle of the oceanless beach…