Sunday, September 09, 2001. Somewhere over the Pacific.
As of late, I’ve developed an odd relationship with the Sun. Some days I hide from it. Some days I run from it. Some days I chase it.
Today I’m racing the Sun. My sprint car is a MD-11. At 10:05 am, Delta and I set off for Japan. The sun has been at my back for nine hours now, as my silver bird races west across the horizon. Fueled by internal combustion and mass-manufactured fish, I make yet another trip to Asia.
On my last trip to Korea, I chased the sun. Leaving Atlanta at sunset, Korean Air frantically pursued the sun on its westward journey across the horizon. In June, I tried to sneak up on Sol by leaving for Taiwan in the darkness of night.
Frequent readers of siliconchef.com may notice I’ve written a lot about travel lately. To be perfectly honest, it’s because that’s all I’ve been doing lately. I spent the week before Dragon*Con in San Jose, chasing the Sun to California. At Dragon*Con I hid from the Sun, destroying my biological clock by removing the natural elements of day and night. After Dragon*Con, I spent two days in Colorado.
Airplanes and I are becoming far too familiar. According to delta.com, I have accumulated over 20,000 base miles this year. Base miles are actual traveled miles, not points for long distance or credit card purchases. Nine months into the year, I have traveled over 20,000 miles by air. That doesn’t count the miles for this flight to Japan, or the 11,000 miles for my trip to Korea that Delta misplaced. If I take those miles into account, I’ve earned over 45,000 airline miles this year.
I make 45,000 miles sound like a trivial feat. If I remember my geography properly, 45,000 miles almost gets me around the world twice (I’m about 5,000 miles short). The bad movies and sub-standard food I endure on my pressurized trip across the ocean pale in comparison to the aviators that came before me.
Not too long ago in American history, airplanes carried supplies and parcels. The world’s history of commercial aviation is brief, but eventful. Giant companies rapidly formed in the twentieth century to do nothing but move people through the air. Companies purchased barren islands in the Pacific Ocean as refueling stations for air routes that didn’t exist yet. The modern air stewardess evolved from nurses stationed on aircraft to make passengers feel safe and secure.
All of this progress in air travel, so I can gripe about time changes and poor in-flight entertainment. The pioneering spirit of past aviators has made the world a smaller place. One hundred years ago, my four days of customer meetings in Japan would have been surrounded by weeks of boat travel. Now my digital products only require 28 hours of catered flight.
The magic of the International Date Line pushes Sunday aside, bringing me hastily into the realm of Monday. Four hours from now, I’ll be navigating customs at Narita Airport, taking a bus to the Tokyo Dome Hotel, and preparing to do business in a foreign land. The casual dress of the American workplace gives way to dark suits and power ties.
So far I’m winning my race with the Sun. For one brief moment, a human is a step ahead of nature.
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