Just to write those words feels special.  I begin.

And here come the moments:

1.  On the train to Brussels Airport, a giant “GTA” sign flashes by.  It’s graffitied in pink against a brown brick wall.  My head jerks.  I don’t know what the letters mean in Belgium but in Canada they stand for the Greater Toronto Area … about five million people.  And so the question wobbles me: “Where am I?”

2.  Four levels of escalator take us from the train station to “Departures” at the airport.  After each pause, there’s a lineup for setting foot on the moving steps.  I wait for a short Oriental woman, bowing ever so slightly.  She bows deeply.  Contact.

3.  In the Departure lounge called A43, talking to a fellow from Frankfurt, Germany, which is where I’m flying to before winging my way to Toronto.  We talk about Germany and Belgium and Canada.   He seems emotionally “flat” so I made it a goal to have him smile.  I think I said some silly things … which I now can’t remember.  He smiled.

4.  What a cool logo!  So simple, so strong.

5.  I’m trying out a new chair.  I love that it faces out to the wide open spaces.  I hate that it has these huge wings that enclose me, like blinders on a horse, so all I can see is straight ahead.

6.  I’ve always loved the moment of takeoff, such as today.  The plane rolls along to the correct runway.  Engine noise climbs while the beast stays put.

And then … The pilot releases the brakes (or something) and we surge forward.  Oh bliss!  The power.  The speed.  The lift.

7.  On the way to Frankfurt, I talk to Esther, a young woman from Kenya who lives in Belgium.  She’s flying home to see her mom.  We smile a lot … about flying, about family, about what “home” means.  And I asked about her hair.  Esther tells me all about dreadlocks and wigs.  Very cool.

8.  Now I’m sitting aboard Air Canada Flight 843 as we look at what movies are available and await the safety demonstration.  Guess I’ll lose the Internet soon so I’ll call it a day for blogging, even though I’m eight hours away from Canada.  So my title is a misnomer … but I’ll get there.

See you tomorrow