I have loved to read ever since I figured out how to do it. My parents knew that one easy way to keep me quiet for hours was to put a book in my hands. Books kept me happy on many long trips as a child. In college, I didn’t read as much for fun because I had to read so much for school. After graduating, I moved into a world that makes me understand why so many people struggle to finish the stack of books on their nightstand. I have a normal full-time job, but that theoretically leaves plenty of time to read, right?
It would, if I wasn’t so easily pulled away by this thing called life. The book so easily slides off my lap when a friend wants to hang out, or a new season of my favorite show drops on streaming. The book waits patiently while I build cosplays and complete household chores. The glow of my phone beckons so much more urgently than the simple paperback. I will finish the book, eventually. And I know the perfect place.
The airplane is one of the biggest advancements in transportation technology since the automobile. A metal can of humans is now able to careen through the sky and be in another corner of the globe in a single day. In concept it still kind of amazes me in the same way the cells under the microscope amaze me. It’s almost magic.
And boy have we humans totally ruined the magic. In concept, flight is incredible, but in practice, it’s downright inconvenient. From being herded like a cow through security to constant delays and the highway robbery that is added fees, flying can be a real pain. But once I reach that metal cylinder and inhabit my generous 18 inch square of seat, I can find a different sort of magic. My phone becomes far less appealing with slow, restricted internet access. I have no chores, no obligations, nothing that I need to get done. For the next few hours, I am traveling. And not just through the sky to another airport. My book, the paperback from my nightstand that has been so long neglected, emerges from my backpack and becomes my escape.
For me, attention has become a precious resource that I have to allocate judiciously. I need to pay attention to my work, my friends, my husband, and my own needs. It’s like each little thing that I need to do, want to do, or should do is pulling at my attention like a string. And something about being on a plane cuts all those strings. My attention is mine and mine alone for this little piece of time. And I choose to read. To fall between the pages like I fall into a swimming pool, taking in the words of a story at the author’s pace.
This trance has taken me through hundreds of pages and thousands of miles. It’s become a part of my travel ritual, no matter what the plane’s in-flight entertainment offers. I can watch movies and TV any time at home, but it seems so much more difficult to make myself read with those attention strings tugging at my brain. I wish it wasn’t so, but I might as well take advantage of the time I do have.
It’s an unpopular opinion, but I don’t mind air travel. Airports, delays, all of the nonsense around flying is a pain. But the actual flight is not half bad. And one big reason I don’t mind flying is books. If I read less than 40 pages on a flight, it’s because I fell asleep (another beneficial activity that I tend to neglect). On a recent flight, I was stuck on the tarmac for over an hour and had got through 250 pages by the time I reached my destination. If I really want to finish a book, I put it in my “plane book” pile and it will surely be finished by the end of my next trip. If I haven’t flown in a while, there is a part of me that looks forward to the moment when the earth falls away below me and my imagination takes hold.
Not the most profound blog post I’ve ever written, but I wanted to share a simple joy in my life that I hope to hold onto. Books are a small magic and deserve some appreciation.
Have a great day, and keep reading.
