I have 57 minutes before landing in Dublin, the first of many stops on my adventure to cure wanderlust. The past two weeks seem like a blur, being a marathon of booking flights, checking hostels, messaging Airbnb users, and ordering train tickets, all intertwined with work and dance practice. With the help of an airport margarita, I was knocked out like a baby after takeoff.
Before dosing off into a position only forgiving via window seat, I remember looking out five minutes into takeoff. Seeing the geographical quilt that my window quaintly framed, put things into perspective for a second. It was bizarre to be thousands of feet in the air going 550 mph, when it was just two hours ago that I was on solid ground, driving 65 mph to DIA. It was bizarre it was just this past weekend I danced at the last Mammoth game of the season with my teammates. It was bizarre that I am sitting here right now staring down at this view, when it was just a fortnight ago, I decided in a split second to follow through with something I’ve been wanting to do for two years now.
The green and brown squares and circles showed no visible signs of civilization, and it made me realize just how small we are in the grand scheme of things. What surrounds us every day and what occupies us that keeps us busy seems trivial from this view. I dig this. I dig the anonymity, and it brings a special kind of serenity. We are so small in this massive world, and I am so ready to see it these next six weeks.