Watching Planes

I drove my youngest son to the airport this morning in the dark and cold and rain. After I dropped him off I went the wrong direction (in an effort to avoid another five dollar toll). Well, I didn't intentially go the wrong way. I just got turned around a bit and went toward Washington instead of away from it. So much has changed that it isn't hard for me to get lost in what I think is familiar territory. It wasn't until later this afternoon that I realized I had paid absolutely no attention to the planes.

We (my family, I mean) fly so much that the planes aren't a big deal anymore. But when my olest son was very young, I used to take him to the observation deck at Dulles and we would sit there, sometimes for hours, watching the planes take off and land. In retrospect I can see that it wasn't a safe place. We were almost on the Tarmac and occasionally jet fuel fumes wafted up. I suppose that's why the airport shut off access at least twenty years ago. Still, it's a nice memory.

My youngest son's flight was delayed more than an hour this morning at that same airport. I wonder if, as he waited for his plane to leave, he took a moment to appreciate the amazing spectacle that flight is. Maybe not. As with so many things, familiarity makes it easy to take such things for granted.