It hardly seems like two weeks have passed since I flew home from Denver. My flight out was late at night, so I put in headphones and fell asleep almost immediately after taking off. However, my flight home left Denver at 2 PM, so I was wide awake. The woman next to me was rather annoying (plus she got in trouble for sneaking alcohol in her carry on), and in order to attempt to pass the time without having to indulge in her conversation, I attempted to photograph the wing of the plane with every change in light.
There's something about flying that is so magical. You are literally trusting your life with someone you've never met, yet they always seem to get you to your destination without major difficulty. My flight out to Denver was pretty rough due to the heavy headwinds, but flying home was smooth as could be, and watching the sunset from above the clouds made it even more breathtaking.
What's your opinion on flying?