Here we are again. Off to the mother country (that’s England for the uninitiated). Racing towards Italy, a couple of very famous Ultimate tournaments, and the end of my year on holiday.
On a seriously congested plane as well. In a middle seat, which is kinda yucky. I can’t see much out the windows. I can’t get out without climbing over someone. I do, however, have the only spare seat on the plane just to my right. And that is nice.
I can just see out the windows enough to watch the lights of Vancouver’s three local skifields receding into the distance. I can also see a guy playing the bagpipes walking down the aisles. There isn’t a lot to explain just why he is doing that. Fortunately, I guess, given the size of the space he has to perform in, he seems to have left the rest of his band behind. How nice we are to applaud him when he is done, even without the slightest conception of why he might have been performing for us. No, his hat has stayed firmly on his head. He is not busking. One of life’s little mysteries, I guess.
But I can not see enough of Greenland out the window (we fly quite a long way north – I guess it makes the trip shorter, but I am no expert in geography). Which is a pity. Because it is not every day that you get to fly over Greenland. Unless you are a pilot on this route, I guess. And even then not every day.
I can see on my little televion screen that the winds outside the plane are blowing 150 kmph behind us. I guess that explains the turbulence. And the time we have caught up. I hope they make planes nice and strong. 150 kmph seems like quite a lot of wind. Certainly I would have trouble throwing a frisbee in it. So I guess I must remember never to play an Ultimate tournament on the top of a cruising jet