In my still-growing youth, I have seen quite literally many highs and lows. These highs and lows are not in reference to some wicked depression or an unsatisfying relationship, but rather by means of the take-off and landing of a commercial jetliner. By being the son of a mother who has worked years upon years in the airline industry as a ticket agent, I have experienced a spectrum of both fortunes and misfortunes in my nineteen years of flying. Through these flying benefits, ever since I could grab at my first threads of memory, I have lived a second life flying high in the sky. My first memory of Sandy, my mother, ever having a job was in the form of being at home and asking my father where my mom was. He once responded, as he pointed behind us "See that plane way up there? She's helping people get onto those." It was from this point on that the sky constantly carried a connotation of my mother - any time I saw a plane, I'd wonder in my childish naiveté if the people who were soaring into the sky within it had met Sandy. Eventually, I'd see the day where even I would end up being somebody in that giant, metal monolith which brushed against the clouds. I was afforded flying benefits through Sandy's job at such a young age that it took me until recently to realize the sheer magnitude of what I had taken for granted for all these years. Centered in the Detroit Metropolitan Airport was a cocktail of sceneries which defined much of my childhood and adolescent years. Do not get me wrong, I was only one of thirty-two million passengers that the Detroit DTW airport saw per year (FlightStats). Despite this fact, I can express my point of view in such a way that 31,999,999 yearly travelers cannot. I've grown to hold a unique lens and perspective of what brings man to the sky. This is my side of the story. .
The early recollection of that giant grid away from home known as an "airport" was nothing short of foreign.
