I’m up here at 39,000 feet again – on my way to Cape Town, South Africa.  Groundspeed: 687 Mph – halfway there, 2000 miles to go.

Nothing but ocean below. Night. Outside air temperature minus 70 degrees.  Whoa baby, that’s cold, fast and high. Pretty amazing when you think about it.  Way to go, humans!  You’ve come a long way.

We’re pretty tough on the airlines these days. Truth is, we’re pretty spoiled. Consider the Spanish and English and Portuguese in their little ships.  Consider the pioneers in their wagon trains. Drive across the U.S. even today. It’s a long haul.

I have 15 movies to choose from. The food wasn’t bad, and I didn’t even have to kill it. My biggest worry was the seat next to me. Would it be filled? It wasn’t, so I can put all my stuff around me ‘cause, god knows, it’s a real pain to have to get up and get my computer out of the overhead.

I have no idea what keeps us up here. Something about aerodynamics… We put a lot of trust in this guy called “The Captain”. Actually, I think we fly because we humans deemed it so. Really. Why should this mammoth metal 747 stay up here? Because we say it should, by golly, and so it does. We’re just all makin’ it up as we go along. We need to fly, so we figure out how to fly. We want to talk long distance so we do telephone. The postal service and the library system start slowing us down so we imagine something better. We imagine a cyberspace and build a new web of communication which spans the world rather instantly. What can’t we do?

Have permanent peace, that’s what. Oh don’t get me started.

I fly in my dreams. Used to be I always did the breaststroke to get around. Then one night I was flying through some rather complicated tree branches and I noticed that when it got kinda tight, my arm just passed right through the branch. I watched it! Right through the branch. I instantly reasoned that if my arm passed through the branch, then pulling the air to move forward in my breast stroking manner wasn’t really making me move forward because the matter around me was not substantial.

So I just put my hands down at my sides and thought my way forward. I didn’t have to steer with my hands any more. I just looked to where I wanted to go and went. Interesting thing is, I learned this so well in that dream that ever after that, when I have flying dreams, I fly with the new and improved method.  I remember the correct method from dream to dream. Now there’s a concept worth exploring.

Maybe that’s really what our Captain is doing. Or maybe that’s what he’ll be doing 50 years from now.  “What are you doing tonight, Betty Jean?”

“Oh, I’m gonna think my way to Africa.”

Most of the time while flying in a jet I don’t even know I’m flying. But get me into a Piper Cub and start butterflying through the air and baby, then I know I’m flying.

We’re just off the coast of Africa now. It’s warmer outside now. Probably because of Africa. It’s now minus 57 degrees. Whoa… Gonna be a hot one.

The stewardess just walked by with a tray full of pure bottled water and it’s 4:15 am. The American pioneers are up there laughin’ about us complainin’ about the airlines.

Think I’ll put on my headphones and listen to some classical music. Maybe a little Bebel Gilberto or Beyonce. Everybody else is either asleep or watchin’ movies. Ah, here’s some Siphokazi – appropriate  African groove for this journey through the sky.

It’s quiet in a noisy sort of way. The roar of the jet you get used to and it’s now a quarter to 5 and most folks are asleep. Perhaps I’ll try. Africa awaits us. Pretty cool…

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