My Big, Fat Geographical Ignorance

This morning, I got up at 3:30am so I could catch one plane to Dallas, then another to New York. It was still dark out as we took off from San Jose, but I couldn’t sleep on the plane. As we flew over some mountains, I looked out the window of the plane and realized it looked like the ocean floor. Peaks and valleys, tiny snatches of green, softened by a blurring layer of sand.

No, it’s not sand, you moron. It’s snow.

I realized this as I recalled the time I flew into Denver one winter night in 1997 and looked out the window as we landed. I thought that Denver must still be building their airport, because they hadn’t paved the runways – they were still rough dirt roads. Except that they weren’t. They were perfectly serviceable tarmac covered in snow.

Don’t blame me. I grew up in Phoenix.

The next time I opened the window shade, we were flying over farm land. But it didn’t look like the lovely farm land above, full of neat squares of different colors of green and brown. This farm land had neat squares, but in the middle of each one was a giant circle, like this is where all the aliens come to practice their crop circles. I have no idea what that’s about. Then again, what I don’t know about agriculture can (and does) fill an entire library.

As we touched down in New York at a little after 5pm, I pulled up the window shade and…it’s dark out. All the hours of sunlight have been spent either in an airport or on a plane.

At least that part of our trip’s done. Next stop – will our luggage be in our stateroom when we arrive? There’s still time to place your bets!