Notes from the Sky

Good travelers are defined by their actions and attitudes when shit hits the fan. When bags are lost or flights missed, people either 1) panic, 2) deal with it, or 3) make the best of it and seize emerging opportunities. I am of the third party. So when delays in Paris meant I’d surely miss my connection in Doha, I spent the whole flight wondering what adventures I could find in this unexpected destination.

The excitement grew as we approached for landing. From my perch amongst the starts, Doha looked like an incredible city, a sparkling diamond in a sea of darkness. What treasures would it hold for me?

Unfortunately none. When I discovered they held the flight for us, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed—as if going according to plan meant I lost something. Which is always the case in life, I suppose.

But the magic of travel whisked me back to wonderland. I honestly LOVE to travel—not only for the places (Although they’ve been pretty interesting as of late.) but for the act of traveling itself. Airports are labyrinths where adventures lurk around every corner. (It was my first time at Roissy Terminal 1—and what a maze it is!) Planes are charged with poetry. (How could you not be inspired to write, with mountains poking through the solid blanket of clouds, like grey rocks in a snowy country field… with the powerful colors of an in-air sunset… with the sparkles of cities connected by rope-lights in a nighttime descent! No wonder St. Ex weaved such beautiful prose.)

Even while taxiing down the runway I was filled with awe. Never have I seen a moon so red or so big as the moon over Doha this night. Like a big, fat cherry, it hung from the stars. It looked like a stop sign. A giant stop sign screaming from the sky.

I refused to let that bother me.

I may believe in signs, but--as a proud member of Travel Group #3--I also believe in appreciating the good things.

And since I left Paris, despite being more anxious about this trip than any previous one, I’ve frequently succumbed to random fits of excited laughter. Stepping off the plane into the warm Qatar air, it was flat out hysteria. I felt amused eyes upon me, but I couldn’t stop laughing. I didn’t want to. I’m just so far from home. And it’s fun.