WindowSeat Wednesday: Eastern Caribbean

Surrounded by groggy passengers still rubbing their sleepy eyes, I stood at the gate waiting to board a 6am flight to the Caribbean.  Since I’d overslept and arrived to the airport an hour later than planned, I wasn’t happy to learn that we were boarding in the same order as we’d arrived at the check-in counter downstairs. (That’s what that 153 on my boarding pass meant).  With only 162 seats, I was firmly planted in the last boarding group and facing the real possibility of middle seat hell.  While I glared at all the eager boarders with envy, I waffled between pondering all the interesting ways to cut in line unnoticeably and praying that I’d, against all odds, land a window seat.

Maybe I’ve developed an unnatural affection for the window?   Or, maybe it’s because my very first travel memories from childhood began with a window seat flight to Nassau, and this is my first trip to Bahamas since before Dad died. I don’t know. But, either way, the prospect of not seeing the ocean blues and cottony clouds waft below me was utterly depressing.

As I stepped onto the plane, prayers still reverberating in my head, I scanned feverishly for a window. Four people in front of me to be seated and one window seat left.  Unbelievable!  The flight’s sold out, 95% boarded and such a great seat is waiting for me? Then my heart stopped and plummeted to my toes. The woman in front of me took the seat.  Before I could entertain any fantasies about snatching her by the hair and dragging her to some other row (I’m only half-kidding here. psycho right?), I realized there was one window left – a lowly seat in the very last row of the plane.  I’ll take it!

Thanking God for answered prayers (and a bit of self control), I settled comfortably into my seat and tried hard not to suck my teeth and roll my eyes when the couple who arrived next dared offer me the aisle .  As the three of us — none on the petite side — squeezed into our accommodations, I knew the next 4  hours would prove to be a feat of human origami.  A long delay on the ground, the realization that my seat didn’t recline fully, and the uninspiring terrain across the Midwest and along the eastern seaboard, I began to question my obsession with the window.  But, when I awoke from a quick nap to discover we were over the Everglades and heading towards the east coast of Florida, my tummy butterflies began to dance.

Visibility was endless. Even when we hit the northeastern most island in the Bahamas, I could still see the Florida coastline 50 miles away and my discomfort melted in the beaming sunlight as quickly as the wax in Icarus’ wings.  My seat mates, almost condescending, questioned my travel experience when they saw how incessantly I snapped photos.  Though I’ve probably been to Caribbean more times than the two of them together, I’ve NEVER before seen such an extravagant display of turquoise in my life.  I just smiled, continued to snap away, and entertained the three thoughts that repeatedly danced through my head:  1) Today’s flight path rocks and I think I’m in love with this pilot for taking us this way.  2) Do the residents below have any idea how beautiful their homeland is from the air?  3) Maybe I should get my pilot’s license, buy a Cessna, and move to Bahamas so I can fly like this every day.

The pilot banked to the right and my seatmates had a much clearer view of the abstract art below. Before we landed, they were oohing and aahing louder than I was and speaking enviously about the images I’d captured.  Here’s a sample of my best shots. Just so you know, as beautiful as they are, they do not do the real thing  justice.  Enjoy!