Who flies first class to Minneapolis? No, really. I started this journey with a somewhat facetious question. Our flight from SFO to Minn. Departs at 6:25am. It is half full. And yet, as we board, we walk right past an entirely full first class section. In this day and age of so many economic challenges, first class travel seems like such a wasteful luxury. These people have not only thrown away the extra money on first class, they’ve done so on first class tickets to Minneapolis. Nothing against this great Minnesota city, but that’s a little like taking the Rolls Royce to go buy groceries. It is a fitting indictment of everything I find wrong with America right now.
That’s America – with a Capital A – as in the country, the culture, and not its people or its spirit or its way. America is lost. We have been seduced by greed and wealth and ignorance. We have come to accept propaganda as truth. We have bought into the notion that we are deserving of our place in history as the World’s masters. Such hubris has always lead to destruction. The blood of patriots will have to be spilled again, I think, to refresh this tree of liberty.
But I think there is nothing wrong with America that Americans can’t fix. We’ve been in some pretty tough scrapes before but our love for truth, equity, and decency has always won out in the end. We will recover. We always do.
Staring out over a field of vast clouds, 36,000 feet in the air, and I can’t help but thinking that could be Africa down there. It hits me then. I’m going to Africa.
Africa – the legendary place of so much adventure. It’s very thought conjures up images of crocodile infested waters, strange and wondrous creatures, vast untamed wilderness, cultures ancient and exotic. It looks different and smells different and sounds different. It is half way around the world from me in every way imaginable. And I’m going there. I’m walking there. I’m sleeping there. I’m eating there. This isn’t a snippet of Africa like something out of Animal Kingdom. This is the full fledged experience.
In Minnesota, it is snowing and 30 degrees out. I manage to find an Arby’s for lunch and have a Bleu Cheese and Roast Beef sandwich. I don’t know when I’ll get another American meal. Before I know it, we’re boarding our flight to Amsterdam. There is a large group of college kids from Saskatchewan here heading to Nairobi. They take up the three rows in front of me. But sparingly, I’m once again next to no one. Breathing room is so necessary. For dinner, they serve some sort of veggie pasta dish. It is filling if not exactly thrilling.
Our individual TV sets go out, but that’s fine. My brain is starting to fog over with fatigue. I try to read one of the books I brought with me. But I don’t get very far. As the flight nears its end they serve us some sort of breakfast croissant thingy. It’s barely edible, but it does keep the hunger pangs away.
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