Lifting off is like those precious moments before reaching the top of the roller coaster, only to realize the roller coaster has wings (the gas tank must be filled with Red Bull) and the track just. Ends.
Everyone involved in the airport and planes is probably fae. Yeah, I said it. I’m not afraid of Tinker Bell! (Yes, I am. I am very afraid of faeries. Please do not hurt me.)
Napping on an airplane is sleepless dreaming as wind sprites toss the plane and your thoughts. Dream of running, running, running… but to or from? You never remember exactly. You wake up more exhausted than before, with a feeling in your chest that every atom of your being is in the wrong place, the need to run. Maybe that’s what brought you here.
If you brought a book, you can’t focus to read. If you wanted sleep, you can’t find it. Music? Phone’s acting up. Paperwork? Where did that pesky pen go? What were you even writing? No matter how prepared you are, it seems as though the world is against you. It is. Sit back, listen to the thrum of the engine, look out the window if you can. Relish in the view, the tops of clouds and a world in miniature.
They’ll offer you food, but nothing is free. Is a bag of pretzels really worth spending all of eternity in the faerie realm?
Landing is the top of the rollercoaster. Seatbelts fastened, potential energy turning kinetic as the cars drop. The plane turns its wing to circle, its nose to fall. Close your eyes and completely relax. Free fall into nonexistence for just a few moments. Just until the nose lifts, and you settle into the pavement, your soul flying away from you and snapping back in an instant.
Land. Grab your luggage. Leave. Find your way through another maze.
A new city, an ancient civilization, everything and nothing awaits you.