Flying

Somehow I am not sure how getting on a jet and being shot across the Pacific

Ocean was named "flying".  Sometime in the night after some excitement, among

other things a sick woman that mom reported to the steward and later it was 

discovered that she was having her period so there was nothing contagious, we

lumbered into the air over the pacific and turned southwest for NZ. There were 

movies on the "flight" one of which had a hilarious line. Ryan Gosling who I must

admit is a fine specimen of a man, is asked to take his shirt off by some woman. After

some discussion he removes his shirt and she looks at him and says, "you have been

photoshopped." 

I drifted in and out of fretful sleep all night waking up to different scenes in two movies

and never quite putting the pieces together. Avoid "Real Steel". The parts I saw 

bespeak nothing but mindless entertainment. Hollywood's thing these days seems

to be who can out computer generate who. 

Sometime in the early morning hours after a breakfast of cardboard and genetically 

engineered cheese served between two pieces of air puffed bread we landed in

Australia. Notable to Australia, the drinking fountain had some of the best water

that I have ever tasted in my life, I mean it was really good. 

I think I have digressed from the "flight" thing. Flying across the ocean in a 747 is

transportation. Coming over Bear Valley 500 feet off the ground in a 206 with the

world opening  before you in brilliant green and blue, elk grazing in the meadows and

the middle fork glistening in the distance. That is flying.