First leg of the trip

The CRJ200 jet we're flying out of feels like a bus, inside. My camera bag is at my feet, and (hopefully) my checked bag somewhere in the back. 

It's a perfect clear sky, and the passengers are in good spirits. This is the short flight. I still can't believe I'm doing this.


The plane's walls have a faint repeating pattern of bubbles. "Calm as Hindu cows," comes to mind, looking over the rest of the passengers.  

 The engines spin, and vibrate the cabin like a car 

revving in neutral. Overhead fans lend a white noise.
We move tentatively, the sun through the window
lighting my hands.


The captain announces "One minute to departure," and then the minute passes. I see the long path ahead briefly as the plane surges decisively, impressively forward.

Very soon, there is no runway, and we are pushed back into our seats. Flint falls away and shrinks and tilts as we bear south. This is less scary than a hot air balloon. Here we go!