The mystery of flying never stops fascinating me.
After a couple of late-morning drinks with a stranger, I board another plane in New York. One sleeping pill and I'm on my way.
Six hours later, I wake up refreshed; or as refreshed as one can be in an economy seat with extra legroom. The screen on the wall shows we're right over Sweden, but outside is only darkness. My friends down there have no idea I'm passing by, most of them probably sound asleep.
I peer through the night. Nothing.
But suddenly... There! There is the island of Gotland! Towns and roadways paint a map in the darkness. My mother and I used to vacation down there when I was a child, and I'd ride my bicycle endless miles from the rented cottage. Carefree, clueless to what life had in store. One could call it happy.
The plane travels quickly and memories fade as we move towards Russia.
I watch a movie where Tom Cruise saves the world once again, doze off and awake to the smell of coffee filling the cabin. Outside, dawn is a faint line on the horizon. I'm traveling against time, and after two short nights it's already Monday.
Then everything happens at once. As the caffeine hits my brain, the sun rises and reveals the land below. We are just entering Iran, leaving the Caspian Sea behind and climbing over snow powdered mountains. Within minutes, Teheran is on our left.
A hardcore Jewish passenger chooses to don full religious gear, including strapping a small wooden box to his forehead, and begin bowing towards the bulkhead. Is he praying for his suppressed brethren in the country below? He's traveling with his wife and their newborn son, and I can sense their love is abundant.
Iran fades, and the waters of the Persian Gulf are green as we descend. Wheels screech as they make contact with a new adventure.
Abu Dhabi is a lot warmer than New York.
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