| Plane Looking |
| 1:30 p.m. on March 02, 2005 |
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It seemed like there was not as much air travel in the 70�s, at least not over my small Northern California town. Whenever a jet plane would make its way over our patch of sky, it was always an event for me. I was a spaced out kid anyway, always with my head in the clouds, but when a jet was overhead, I lost all sense of myself as I tipped my head back to look at it float by for as long as I could. One time I wandered out in the empty street to get a better look, just when my Dad turned the corner in our green Granada automobile. I was busted for being in the middle of the road, poised to get run over. Instead of yelling, he just gave me a sad look and shook his head as he drove on by once I was safely back on the sidewalk. Now I live in Jet City where thousands of jet planes fill the sky on a daily basis, but I still have to stop and look as they slowly glide through the clouds, cutting a path to whatever destination.
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