I don’t loath flying long haul. There’s a freedom to the lack of expectation. Full permission to eat, sleep (badly) and watch movies for longer than socially acceptable. Complete liberation. No pressure. Zero guilt. The achiever in me relishes the figurative space. I normally fly solo so no one else to consider. No outside communication at however many thousand feet. Just me in my metal bubble.
I find it hard to give myself the same permission to chill on the ground. It’s not that I don’t chill. It’s releasing that residue of guilt that I should be doing something good else. That watching back to back episodes of TV is a waste. Invariably my thoughts will always wander towards what I should be using the time for. Maybe something to work on, more something to accept as part of who I am. So I’ll be over here, in the window seat, enjoying my 24 hour free pass.