An Unending Transit

Those of you who have traveled long distances by air know the weird transformation that takes hold of one's psyche during these encounters. In my case, the current episode is the numbingly long flight from Washington, D.C. to Johannesburg, non stop, which, according to Wikipedia, is the third longest such flight on planet earth. Up here, at 39,000 feet, the notion of day and night evaporates. You sit, watch movies, read, sleep, eat, listen to music, talk. and, repeat and repeat and repeat. In this case, 16 hours' worth of this sedentary dance. (Kudos, by the way, to South African Airways: touch screens with a bevy of movies, TV shows, music options, and games. and, free wine. not bad.) The joy for me came moments ago when it became socially acceptable to open the window shades and below lay Africa. Namibia, to be precise. A vast brownness of the likes I know I've never seen. Africa! Vast stretches of sand dunes, crusty lunarscapes with widely scattered strands of snake-like roads leading absolutely nowhere. No, Toto, we're definitely not in Kansas anymore.

To be honest, notwithstanding the difficulties of such unending transits, they do add something to the experience other than a sore butt. The charm of distance, for one thing, and the palpable feel of the exotic would be diminshed without this "labor." You know you have come a long way to experience something special. And, so it is with me.