THOUGHTS FROM 30,000 FEET
One hour and forty four minutes to go. That’s 6,240 seconds. When I worked the most stressful job of my career in Los Angeles last year, I’d always breathe a huge sigh of relief when I realized I only ten minutes left on the clock. Only 600 more seconds of dealing with my total bitch of a boss and her constant criticism, I’d tell myself. I lasted 9 months at that job, and when I was let go, I felt like I had just taken the biggest shit of my life.
Good or bad, all things end, and as we get older, it’s important to realize this. Nothing lasts forever. Well, except maybe this flight. I’ve already drained my computer battery to 21% and listened to all of my favorite songs three times over, so I’m beyond ready to get off this 777. I haven’t slept — I never do — but I’m so excited to see my friend and explore this country the thought of even trying seems impossible.
About 45 minutes before we landed, I got a peek at the bright red sun dipping below the horizon, and it washed the whole sky with muted shades of pink and orange. Callum's flight was set to arrive ten minutes after mine, so I knew he was seeing the same thing as we both made our descent into Narita. I knew he was probably also just as wowed as I was by the colors and the light. I finally found him after collecting my bags, and I couldn't believe it had been over a year since I saw him last. As I've moved farther and farther away from a "normal" life, I've found that the fleeting time spent with my travel buddies is just as special as the people I see on a regular basis, and we were both looking forward to catching up -- and exploring Japan for the first time.