At least 40,000 feet in the air, a huge machine cartwheeling through the sky running on only man-made powers of creation and innovation. My mind flashes back to the little knowledge I have of the Wright Brothers, how mad they must have been to imitate the flight of birds. Simply sitting in the metallic vessel of Alaskan Airlines, my tiny window seat revealing the cold, gray and damp November Washington winter that is innate to me. It was around 7 a.m., my normal groggy demeanor gone in the face of a new adventure packed with an adrenaline rush. I was going on a two-hour flight and my first one ever, to Santa Clara International Airport in California. The traveler in me was thrumming with eagerness, but the tiny voice in my head was steadily chanting, We're going to die, we're going to die! Better make your peace with this life while your feet are still firmly planted on the Earth. I could not help but to obsessively think about it amid the ritual it was suggested to do while on my first flight: pop in some gum and put in some headphones so the ascent to the heavens is not so painful to the eardrums. It was only when the flight attendant began to gesture along with the protocols I have seen so often on television, that I turned my attention back to the window as the plane began to take flight.

First, it was the thrum of the engine. We began to shake as the metallic bird beast seemed to awaken from a long slumber, and began its prowl along the designated travel lanes for the first time. Between one blink and the next, my window seat view turned from concrete to vast expanses of smooth and creamy clouds. With our ascent, my ears popped slightly similar to the sharp pring of the ears when traveling from mountain to mountain. I felt the pull of gravity on my central body, or maybe that was my breakfast! Finally, the pilot announced the leveling of the machine with the earth, which meant that from here on it was smooth sailing. A sense of calm washed over me as I took in the spectacular view.

Slowly, the geography of the Pacific Northwest gradually flew with us as the two hours trickled by. Sipping on the complementary pomegranate juice, and softly rocking away with some tunes, I snapped every moment of the trip, undoubtedly annoying my seat mates. The dusty midnight blue of the mountains molded around the white peak of Mount Rainer, a few miles later transforming into the tiny buildings of Portland, Ore. Eventually, we crossed paths with Oregon’s most notable National Park of Crater Lake. Up to that moment, at least 40,000 feet above the Earth, I had never seen Crater Lake in the flesh, even though I grew up two hours from it. At least a hundred photographs of that natural splendor later, the territory below me began to subtly switch from blue and green mountains into what I can only stereotypically identify as the golden brown, desolate look of California.

With those rolling golden hills, no longer bathed in the beauty of true trees, the landscape began to intertwine with my first view of a California interstate. Moving along the land like a bustling snake, the interstate leads to the city of San Francisco. Appearing out of the scenes of movies, my aerial view showed the city to be that of a quilt. Strong multicolored blocks of buildings constructed the formation of the patterned city, larger circular shapes of the teal bay cutting into the patterned city quilt every so often. Santa Clara, California is a bit further North of San Francisco and the scenery returned to the empty rolling hill landscape I had thus far witnessed on this flight. So as we left the city view and began our descent, it was at that moment my eardrums decided to turn against me.

A terrible screeching and howling, like that of a banshee coming to end my existence, hammered incessantly even after I safely returned to the ground. The thrumming and rattling of the metallic beast of an airplane against turbulence distracted me no longer, I was thrown into the headache of a lifetime. Cruising into a landing position, we slowly disembarked out of the vessel and into the humid beams of California sunshine. Completely taken aback and disgusted, I assembled my belongings from the baggage claim. Waving farewell to a new friendship, I smiled at my new addiction to airplane travel.