Trapped in the “happy” zone
During the first several hours of an 18hr transatlantic flight from Romania back to the states, I felt like I was flying away from the important stuff: a comfortable bed, a kitchen stocked with all the right food, and a loving wife that was willing to put up with yet another crazy adventure. Why was I about to begin a 6-month hike in the woods again?
Then it hit me. OK, maybe It didn’t hit me, but It certainly surrounded me. I was trapped in the midst of a large group of Russian performers on their way to the states for a dance/singing competition. The younger members of the group were diligently building their tolerance to caffeine and glucose in anticipation of 9 days filled with Facebook worthy moments.
There was seat swapping. There was some sort of drawn out game of tag. The grown-ups tried to harness some of the energy with an impromptu rehearsal. The flight attendants, probably recognizing that it was going to be a long flight, kept themselves busy towards the front of the plane.
A better person would have embraced this opportunity to engage with an entertaining and interesting group of fun-loving people. A better person would have found a way to snag some free Jack Daniels to ease his suffering. I’m not that guy. Instead, I was trapped in the “happy” zone, and I wanted out. Away from the scurrying, the noise, and the people. I needed fresh air, the space to move, and light at the other end of a loooong green tunnel.
I need the Trail.
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