My first experience in an airplane was uneventful. I flew from D.C, to Germany in the evening. My seat was in the middle row of a plane so large it could be a boat. The window was too far away to see out of properly, and it was too dark outside to matter. I was also too tired to care much; the flight was seven hours long.

My second flight, however, this time from Germany to Norway, has proven to be a bit more interesting. When I walked through the metal detector, my earrings and the zippers on my calf high boots set it off. I was patted down, and found to be carrying no weapons. The experience was a bit flustering, but I am very glad that airports have good security. I am even more glad that I was only patted down and not subjected to a strip search, as one of my friends was once.

And now all of that is over, and I sit in a small airplane looking out the window on a beautiful spring day. I look down at the hills and houses and trees and towns and rivers and farms. They all seem so tiny, and my own life could not feel more insignificant. I am soaring in the sky, while the daily lives of so many people continue on.

I observe the people around me and wonder. I see old couples, business men and women, families with children, and teens and young adults like myself. They are all headed to Norway as well; what is their purpose for going? Are they sightseeing like me? Are they visiting family or friends? Is their trip business related? Were they in Germany for a vacation and are now heading home?

From my window I see one of the plane's slightly battered and scratched wings. Someone once had the ingenuity to design an airplane. I am glad the world does not rely on me for inventions; my brain does not work that way. Even now, years after airplanes were invented, I don't even understand how they work. That type of knowledge is beyond my reach.

Now the plane has climbed above the clouds. Nothing is visible but white and blue. And very soon, I land in Norway.