When traveling long distances, the preferred method is by plane (because no one has the patience to sit in a car for more than two hours straight especially crammed into the back seats fighting for leg room with siblings and listening to dad’s awful road trip playlist).
Instead of enduring a lengthy car trip we opt to take the quicker route, through the air.
Yet we still complain about the length of the trip and still hope for a faster way. I remember flying across the Atlantic, from Atlanta to Barcelona. It was about a twelve hour flight and it was lonely. I’m one of those people who can’t sleep on planes and while everyone was sleeping, I was watching six movies. Seatbelt off not worried with turbulence or the weather around me.
Imagine being even more lonely and being alone during a flight like that. Imagine not having all the newest movies to watch. Imagine the turbulence being twenty times worse, with sleet even sticking to the plane. Imagine if the flight were not twice as long, but three times as long. Oh, and imagine that you aren’t just a passenger, but a lone pilot making this journey alone.
Charles Lindbergh did just that: he made the solo voyage from New York to Paris. For him, the flight was thirty-three and a half hours. I don’t think I know anyone that would willingly hop on a flight that long, let alone be the pilot. That is why I would want to meet Charles Lindbergh, “The Lone Eagle”.