When I was younger, I never used to mind much about seating locations on the plane. Anywhere was good enough because I immediately nodded off to sleep because this has always been a relatively easy way to pass the idle paralysis of a plane ride. In the last two years, I’ve become what you might call a plane (all pun intended) snob. I only accept a window seat; I now make it a point to request a vegetarian meal even though I know that means airline food at its exponentially worse; I’m even the dork that goes through e-check in and prints out the boarding passes much to the clear frustration of ground staff that have to figure how to tear the crisp piece of A4 without ripping my copy. This transformation happened under my nose: I am the Traveler Who Has Narrowed Down Her Options (For Life).
There are a few perks to this. For example, the window seat let me enjoy this view on my way to Cyprus:
The pink hue, the light blue, the shades of Greek islands below, confirmed my plane seating option for life. How can people think about something as plebeian as leg room, when you have the whole sky to gaze at beyond you? I normally never take photos from the plane, but the sky’s colors were so warm, I couldn’t resist.
After arriving here in one piece last night, I spend Mother’s Day with the women of my family: my mom and grandma. I also snooped around my mom’s crafts workshop for kids and I was completely inspired by the colors, the creativity and the pervading feeling of childish innocence at the place. It made me want to be a kid again and relive my childhood. Paper butterflies, papier mâché blowfish and other such crafts exploded colorfully all around me.
If I was thirsty for a splash of color, I feel that thirst has now been quenched. I’m feeling a colorful, creative buzz that’s very refreshing.
I’m allowed these small joys still even if I’ve become the sort of traveler I used to deride. Easy to spot too: Colorful clothes, a book in hand bookmarked by printed-out boarding passes. You can go ahead and make fun of me, call me crazy or a big dork. To be honest, I’m both of these things.
Hence, plain bananas (plain dork just didn’t have the right sound to it).