When it was finally time to board, we found ourselves on a small plane, much like the one we’d taken from Springfield to Chicago—only this one was emblazoned with a shamrock and the airline name Aer Lingus. Upon boarding the captain announced his name as Seamus O’Connor.
Well. That turned very Irish very quickly.
Another takeoff, more flying. By now I was in some kind of trance or limbo. This was my lot now, to be forever stuck in transit, always hopping from one airport to another amid days and nights that didn’t match my body’s internal clock. I was so tired…so tired.

The world is made up of much more than brave heroes and spineless fools. Every person in every land, of every color, of every psyche - cold or hot, black or white, sad or glad, good or ill - are part of a great story; a rolling, thundering epic, starring nameless faces and every soul who has ever inhaled even a single breath. Invisible people you'll never meet, forgotten by time, stolen away in a gust of wind just outside of your temporal reach.

I dozed off a little once it was morning, and woke up to stewardesses opening window covers and serving breakfast.
The captain’s voice came on, in a prim, polite British accent.
“Good morning, passengers, we hope you had a restful night. We’ve just passed over the Isle of Mann, and will be beginning our descent into London shortly.”
Isle of Mann…London…Whoa. I peered groggily out the window. The sun was just getting high enough to lose its morning softness, and I squinted against its growing glare, trying to see down through the patchy clouds.

I might have been a great physicist, had I been given a brain that didn’t commence automatic emergency shutdown procedures at the first sign of anything more complex than simple multiplication.
As it is, my fate has limited me to having an enormous respect for the work that physicists do, and a passionate fascination with their field of study. Hence, I do have a rudimentary understanding of physics in a rather instinctual way, even though I couldn’t explain the mathematical technicalities if my life depended on it.

It was a strange sensation when the plane dropped back down through the clouds and I found myself staring down at Chicago through a torrential rain. It was such a shock when only seconds before I had been staring so raptly at the realization of my childhood imaginings, and I realized that this must be what it felt like to come back from Narnia.

For as long as I can remember, I have been captivated by clouds. No doubt this love was greatly enhanced by the fact that I grew up in the American Midwest, where some of the most spectacular cloud formations in the world are the daily norm. Hours upon hours of my childhood and teen years were devoted to lying on the ground or sitting on a high vantage point, watching everything from cotton puffs to monstrous storm cells move overhead.

We had arrived at the airport two hours before our flight, like you’re supposed to. The trouble is that with a tiny regional airport like Springfield, getting through security takes next to no time, and we found ourselves with an hour and a half to sit and wait.
Once again, Amanda seemed completely calm and relaxed and I was trying desperately to imitate her, even though my mind, emotions, and internal organs were churning.

It was a gray, rainy Wednesday morning when Amanda came to my apartment to help make sure I was ready to go—she being a seasoned traveler, and me having never been out of the country before. I had been up for hours already, unable to sleep, and had packed and re-packed my backpack at least half a dozen times. I’m one of those people who needs very little in reality and yet, when faced with the prospect of travel, feels compelled to pack everything I own, just in case; not an ideal compulsion to have when you’re about to embark on a backpacks-only trip.

It all started out as a joke.
My best friend and her sister had just returned from a month-long excursion to the British Isles, and Amanda was telling me all about it. She mentioned a place in Northern Ireland where they could spend multiple nights in the same place, but explore a host of fascinating sights within walking distance in any direction.
“It’s amazing,” she said. “I want to take you there someday!”

My first thought about this new country was that I could see the slums from the airplane. As we landed, I caught glimpses of blue tarp strung across some metal shacks, standing just past the fence that ran alongside the runway. As we coasted to a stop, I looked over at my four friends. “We’re here!” I mouthed over to them as our heartbeats sped with excitement.