With the view gone, I recline in my seat, flip my CNN cap over my eyes. I begin my elbow dance with the two passengers on both sides and settle in for the flight.
Though I'm piled into this Boeing 737, with like sardines, and accelerating through the sky, inside a object full of moving parts, and hundreds of gallons of highly combustible jet fuel, I am in a state of peace. My mind transports me beyond the crying babies, coughing passengers, the stewardesses wheeling carts up and down the aisle.
I don't care, I would be happy to be placed in the cargo hold and be able to sit on luggage. For when I head off on an adventure, I feel like a king. If someone were to look at my face, during the beginning of every plane ride. They would see a big euphoric, grin on my face. My legs crunched up in the tight seat, hands folded across my chest like a cadaver, my stiff neck arched backward on the short head rests, and but completely happy and lost in my vast imagination.