OK so on Wednesday I was on the road...well, actually, the trail up to Arthur's Rock...out for a short hike to stretch my legs before heading out east. The meadows were lush from recent rains; wildflowers in bloom; mists lay deep in the gulch...waiting for the sun to hit and dry them.
But on Friday, it was on the road...though not the highway. It was rather the road show at Denver International Airport (DIA)...thousands of people being sorted or sorting themselves...exposed to the shops and come-on of hawkers and kiosk matrons...moving with purpose...all "needing to get somewhere"...
But, then, where? And why? Now Arthur's Rock is a destination...you get there the same way that our ancestral hominids walked out of Africa into the lands of the Middle East...but here in the hurly-burly of a morning rush that same bipedal motion takes us to machines purring at the gates...
where we cram ourselves and some of our stuff into small spaces...and we are flown through the upper atmosphere while we complain of the failure to have Pepsi instead of Coke while outside....
the clouds display a pattern from above that is unknown from the patterns they display from below. I am always somewhat astonished at the contrast between my window seat (where I can sneak a few inches by placing my foot on the back of the right armrest in front) and the vast space outside...the noise of the plane's engines and the silence above the earth...
and then to land at some spot thousands of miles away (and still be in the same nation state)...and walk off the plane, using that same bipedal gait, and head for....another Arthur's Rock?
