I told you, it's a big day.
I planned on being there for this momentous day, but alas, it was not to be. The blizzard canceled all my flights yesterday and the airline insisted I wouldn't be able to get on a flight until tomorrow.
Well, I showed them! I showed up at the airport at 4:30 this morning ready to do whatever it was going to take and talk/cry/plead my way onto a flight.
It worked, too. My new hero, Air Canada Man, booked me through to Atlanta by taking the longest milk run route of all time. I started with a 20 minute flight to Halifax, Nova Scotia in a little puddle jumper of a plane.
I'm not kidding. The pilot was maybe ten feet from me. I got to watch him press the buttons and make the plane go vvvvroom vroom.
While the sunrise was beautiful and everything, I could not help but think about how close the propellor was to my face. And about how fast it was spinning. You can't even see it, it's so fast!
I probably should not have watched the KLM vs. Pan Am Crash of the Century documentary yesterday. You know, the greatest disaster in aviation history? Killed 600 people? Rescue services took 20 minutes to arrive? 1977? You weren't born yet? Neither was I. That's why they invented documentaries. For us youngins.