I remember many years ago my job required me to travel across the Pacific Ocean a number of times, mostly via aircraft. Back then the Boeing 707 was the flying marvel that carried us passengers up so high and over vast distances.
As you approached the aircraft for boarding you had to notice how big these planes were back then. How big and powerful the engines appeared. At that time you could still walk on the tarmac up to the plane. And how one's confidence on this technology long ago seem to be confirmed, for some reason, as you entered this fine ship. And how the ship's pilots and crew had such an air of professionalism that seemed to radiate from them with ease. Being friendly, saying hello and smiling at everybody as they passed along the aisle. As if we were just flying to the next city within the same state.
After leaving San Francisco with a stop over in Hawaii, we headed west over the Pacific. And hit some sudden turbulence. We were shaken pretty good. With a few outcries from the passengers. The stewardesses calmly but authoritatively commanding us to buckle up. We're through it after a few minutes. The longest in my life. My hats off to those stewardesses who fed and cared for us. And cleaned up the mess when somebody got sick.
Looking out from my seat window I spy a tiny sliver of white on the distant sea 40,000 ft. below us. It's the wake of a ship.
Looking up, the darkness of the stratosphere above us.
It was after a breakfast and lunch that the pilot announced we would be landing to refuel soon. He directed our view to the ocean below. And there, a tiny spec in the water, Wake Island. I'm in awe of the navigator's ability to find this little atoll with a landing strip on it, out in the middle no where, in the middle of the Pacific. We make a perfect landing on a runway that is just long enough for our ship. We were allowed to disembark for a while to stretch our legs. It's really hot, and so bright. There's a small terminal that provides shelter from the heat and brightness. Wake Island has a noble history and would be wonderful to explore but we had limited time. I was honored to walk upon it, even if it was only for a short period.
Back in the plane we rocket off the little strip and climb into the sky like we were headed for the moon. Again reminded of the power of the plane's engines. It's after dinner that we finally land in the Philippines. My final destination.
But when I considered the scope of the entire trip later I figured out the great distance traveled on a map. 7,764 miles to cross over the ocean. And then I considered how big that section of the earth is.
And then I realized how small an airliner is compared to that. In fact, how tiny it is, super tiny. It can't even be seen from higher up. And how even tinnier the people who ride in it are.
And how each one of those teensy-weensy people, have a story to tell.
