I'm getting on a plane tonight for the first time since the fall of 2008. I don't really go anywhere very often via large metal flying machine. I used to, back in the glory days of Simple Scrapbooks magazine, when I'd fly to beautiful Salt Lake City (read: Draper) for editorial meetings every 8 weeks.
Even though I got good at packing light, carrying my bag on, keeping my liquids in their tiny plastic 3-oz containers, I never really loved the traveling.
I remember thinking back then, "How did this get to be part of my job as a graphic designer?" Graphic designers sit alone in darkened rooms very much engaged with terra firma. Flying places for work was something my Dad did when I was growing up. Was I really that grown up?
I made this page in 2008 to document the fact that I'd become a fly girl.
It's funny. I still carry the same purse (although my present one is in black) and I still bring as much in-flight entertainment as possible (my iPad is loaded up with three flicks). Hopefully, it'll be smooth sailing all the way to good old Seattle, Washington, the city of my birth.
One thing that hasn't changed for me as a traveler is that even though there is always a bit of excitement or nervousness on fly day, there is also the part of me that truly wishes her feet wouldn't be leaving the ground at all.
Up, up and away, as they say.