I work near the Salt Lake City International Airport, but unfortunately, from where I sit in my cubicle can't see any of the planes land or take off. Probably a good thing--that way I can focus more on my work and keep my job. When I take a break and walk around outside, that's when I see them. There's something about seeing one of those massive machines race into the sky that's mesmerizing. It's almost hypnotic.
I don't have many memories of my father, but I think there were times when we used to drive out to the airport and watch the planes take off and land. Back then, you could get closer, or even park your car by the side of the road and watch. I'm not sure you can even do that anymore. Like I said, these memories with my father might not have even happened, but I think they did--I'd like to think they did.
Even though I work close to the airport, I don't find myself at the airport very often. It's been years since I've been on a plane. I have, however, been asked to pick up people when they fly into town--something I'm happy to do.
Such was the case earlier this week. We had family fly in from California. Luckily, I was able to work my full shift then afterwards, pick them up. I arrived a few minutes early and so I waited for them to deplane. When you wait, you do certain things, at least I do. I listened to the radio, memorized more of Frank Sinatra's My Way, and took a few pictures of the beautiful sky that sounded both fliers and non-fliers alike. Spring storms have been rolling into the valley as of late which makes for incredible cloud formations and amazing skies. My simple pictures don't even come close to doing them justice.
Tomorrow I'll return to the place where people can be transported to virtually every destination on the planet. And because I'm dropping off, I won't have an excuse to look at the sky and watch the planes. Of course, I could do it anyway, which would be a pretty good excuse, if you ask me.