Peter, I Can See Your House From Here

I just returned home from a daytrip to Chicago, and while I don't exactly love getting up at 3am to catch a six o'clock flight, I don't really mind it so much either. It's just part of the job.

In case you haven't noticed, I have a thing for air travel.

It's not just my slightly ghoulish interest in plane crashes; I am intrigued, occasionally appalled, but ultimately fascinated by pretty much every aspect of the entire travel experience, from how my luggage gets on the right plane (barcodes and conveyor belt sorters kind of like a USPS Bulk Mail Center) to how a plane actually flies (Bernoulli's Principle, of course. It's all about the curve of the wing assembly and how the differential between the speed of the air flowing over the wing and the air flowing under the wing creates lift and snoooooooore). I mean, one of my internet must-reads every Friday is Patrick Smith's "Ask the Pilot" on Salon. (He's linked over in that sidebar on the right side of this blog.)

I know: NERD ALERT!

I'm such a geek that I was tickled when I moved into my apartment in 2004 and learned that it was under the approach path to LaGuardia Airport. I've been known to sit in my front windows or on my front stoop just watching the planes go by. I'm close enough to LaGarbage that I can see the landing gear (as it is another two to three minutes to landing by the time a plane passes over Judge Street, if the gear isn't down, there's something seriously wrong and you should listen for a large boom), and I like to idly recite to myself the airline (identified by its livery, or "paint job" for you non-geeks out there) and the type of aircraft. "Hmmm...American, MD-80; USAir, 737; Delta, 757...Song? What the heck is Song?" Okay, so that was back in ought-four, Song doesn't exist anymore...) I've been known to stand in my bathroom watching incoming flights and timing the separation between the planes. New York has the most congested airspace in the country and there is a plane landing at LGA every 45 to 60 seconds. Scary, huh? Those ATCks really are pushing tin!

See? Geek.

Two years ago, flying into Pittsburgh for Dad's funeral, I was looking out the window and casually thought to myself, upon spotting a split-entry ranch well off the road and surrounded by trees, "That looks a lot like Uncle Chuck's house...Holy shit! It IS Uncle Chuck's house!"

Tonight, flying home on American, we had a smooth flight with clear-clear-clear skies and I was lucky enough to have the A-seat in a row not obstructed by a wing, and as we flew up the East River, I was able to start pinpointing landmarks (to myself, of course. I'm a geek, but not an audible one). Statue of Liberty, Governor's Island, Ferry Terminal, Brooklyn, Manhattan, and Williamsburgh bridges...ooh, that's Metropolitan Avenue, there's Kellogg's Diner with its hideous purple and pink neon outlining the whole building, and holy cow, I can see my little one-block street with the building on the corner with the five bright orange lights on the outside and just a few doors down, with the three bright lights on the facade, I could see my own house! So cool.

What did I tell you? Geek.

But as Jesus said, blessed are the geeks...

Do you need any further evidence of my geekitude? I just wrote a thousand words -- if that isn't evidence enough, I don't know what is.