Between Take Offs & Landings #2

Seat 3A. 25,000 feet in the sky. One bag of almonds and a Diet Coke later, here I am.

The plane’s still climbing. It’s 5:59 PM and we’re somewhere over central Georgia, I think. I booked myself a business class seat on this domestic leg from ATL (Atlanta) to EWR (Newark), because why not burn some credit card points before life resets? The flight was delayed by two hours thanks to the moody skies over the Northeast. The aircraft? A noisy little Boeing 737-700 that feels like it’s powered by willpower and caffeine.

We took off from runway 27L in Atlanta and made a sharp right turn. Felt like the pilot wanted to personally wave at NYC before we got there. As always, I’m in a window seat, because honestly, there’s no better place to feel like a philosophical genius. One glance out of that oval and the world suddenly seems manageable. Below me now: stretches of green, crisscrossed roads, tiny towns, maybe a lost gas station or two.

The cabin temperature is perfect. Not too cold, just enough to lull you into a light, reflective coma. This flight marks a pause in my flying chapter. After over two years in Columbus and Atlanta, I’m headed back home soon. I’ll write about the final NYC to Ahmedabad leg later, but for now, this moment deserves its own post.

Airports are little theatres of humanity. People-watching is my in-flight entertainment. Pilots striding like movie stars. Consultants typing like they’re solving world hunger. Families with one stressed parent and one sticky child. Folks dashing for their gates like it’s the Olympics. Then there’s me, casually overthinking life from 3A.

Right now, beside me, is Mr. Peter. Bald, white, comfortably round, maybe in his late 60s. He’s sipping a beer and crunching on chips like he’s judging a snack contest. Worked at a utility company for 39 years. Can you imagine? Forty years with the same employer. My resume would faint. He’s heading back home to NYC after a tough trip to Atlanta. Said he lost someone close. Someone young. The way he said it, softly, with a tired smile, cut through the cabin noise.

And that’s the thing. Every seat in this flying tin can has a story strapped into it. Some are heartwarming, others heartbreaking. Mine today is somewhere in between. This flight feels like the last page of a long chapter filled with layovers, TSA checks, and over-salted snacks.

It’s 6:45 now. We’re wrapped in clouds. A little turbulence is joining the party. 35 minutes to Newark. I think descent starts in a few. Seatbelt sign just lit up and things are starting to shake like a Bollywood dance number.

This reminds me of my wildest turbulence story. Flashback to 12th grade. Ahmedabad to Hyderabad. Exams over. I was free, clueless, and on a night flight with a window seat. The plane reached cruising altitude, lightning flashed outside, and the captain popped on the mic sounding like a man reading horoscopes. He calmly informed us that Hyderabad was currently shut due to thunderstorms, but not to worry, we were just circling until it reopened.

Cool, right? Until he came back 15 minutes later with, “Bad news, we have 20 minutes of fuel left. Good news, Hyderabad is back online. We’re ninth in line to land.” I remember thinking, this is how plot twists work. Somehow, we made it. I was the last person to leave the aircraft, shook the pilot’s hand like he’d just landed on Mars. Windy doesn’t even begin to describe what greeted us outside.

Back to the present. It’s 7:05. The land is rising to meet me outside the window. Cabin crew is bustling. Trays are clicking back into place. The sun is softly brushing my fingers through the glass, casting long golden streaks across my laptop screen. We’ll be landing in Newark around 7:35. If the approach is right, I might just get the perfect view of the NYC skyline from my window — that magical silhouette of skyscrapers catching the last light of day.

Tomorrow, I catch a flight to India. A long journey awaits. But for now, I’m finishing this blog midair, feeling a strange cocktail of nostalgia, gratitude, and a tiny bit of nervous excitement.

Life is like this flight. Loud, unpredictable, occasionally delayed, but always offering a view worth looking at.

The crew just made the final announcement.

Cabin crew, please be seated for landing.

And hey, you reading this. Don’t forget to look out the window once in a while. You never know what story’s unfolding beneath you.

Till then, sit back, relax, and enjoy your life.

Yours

SV

NYC skyline, for you guys!