It's tough to see from these pictures, but the surface of these clouds looked like the pictures of ice floes in Antarctica that appear in one of my favorite books, Endurance.
It IS possible to see every kind of cloud all at once.
When it comes to air travel, there are few things we should complain about. And I'm not talking about the petty things like delays or crying infants. The ability to end up somewhere 900 miles away from where you were only 2 hours ago is something many of us take for granted. When I travel, I accept and embrace all the experiences that come along with it, both the good and the bad. I understand fully that an entire network of people are doing their best to ensure that I have the safest flying experience possible, so when the odd hang up does occur, I "turn lemons into lemonade" and make the best of it.
Now, don't get me wrong. There are still a few things we ALL hope won't happen to us. I'll admit to playing the "Who do I hope to not get stuck next to" game in the terminal before boarding. I don't enjoy an unruly tot kicking the back of my seat any more than I enjoy sitting next to someone who should have purchased two seats instead of one or anyone who doesn't get the idea that when I put on my headphones while you're talking to me, you should give it a rest. Today, I would have traded my hand for any and all of those aforementioned circumstances than to have dealt with the cards I was given.
As the first round of beverages were served, I was sound asleep and missed my chance at a cool drink to wash down my pretzels. When the steward returned to collect the garbage, I asked if I could still get something. He quickly returned with a cup brimming with a sparkling, throat tickling, carbonated beverage that, no sooner did he walk away, did I proceed to knock over and watch in slow-motion horror as it cascaded off of my tray table and onto my lap. All 8 ounces of untasted, ice-cold soda began soaking into my pants and formed a pool under my ass. My four-lettered expletive was audible even to myself through my noise canceling headphones. I sat there, shocked by the cold on my most sensitive of areas and not believing what I had just done when the severity of my situation began to sink in. Walka, walka!
I dared not move, lest the soda that had not yet been absorbed by my skivvies would spill off of my seat and perhaps onto someone else's belongings. Unfortunately, the surface unto which my soda was collecting beneath me was none other than the seat cushion that can also be used as a flotation device in the case of a water landing (the little label on the seat before me reminded me of that for the remainder of the flight). Naturally, in order for that cushion to remain buoyant, it must be made of a material that would not absorb moisture. So I buzzed the steward and requested a towel or something to soak up the mess. He returned moments later with perhaps the only thing less absorbent than the cushion itself; a stack of those crisp, square airline napkins. I took the whole wad and jammed it in my crotch.
It was the longest 1:10 of my life as I dreaded finally having to stand up to exit the plane once we'd reached our destination. I envisioned a giant wet spot covering both my front and my back and having to walk through groups of people who'd thunk I had messed myself. Here is the only upside to the story. Lucky for me, I was wearing my Columbia pants with Omni-Dry technology. We've all seen the commercials with Mom and her son, testing the limits of Columbia outerwear in the most extreme environments in some sort of kooky way. I thought of writing them to let them know that their product passed the spilled soda air dry test at 30,000 ft. By the time we landed, my pants were barely damp (which is more than can be said for my undies) and showed almost no sign of wetness. Thank God! I still dreaded standing up, expecting to see a puddle on the seat, but there was none.
The ironic thing is that on my way through the terminal to meet my plane, I almost stopped to buy a bottle of soda, but didn't because I didn't want to spend the typically over-inflated airport price. In retrospect, I would have happily paid two, three, even four times the price for the soda and sat on Louie Anderson's lap just to ensure I had a spill-free flight.
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