Flying by yourself is magical. It’s magical when you know how to not think. To snap out of everything the minute you end that last call and switch the bloody nuisance of a phone off. Its magical when you select a movie, see it, forward the parts you want to forward, see another movie, supposedly a sappy one which your friends refused to see with you, tear up a bit with a chocolate not having to worry about damaging your macho reputation, see another movie your friends saw when you were not in town, accompany the movie with a glass of terrible tasting wine.
When you pick and chose what you want to eat in the lunch/brunch tray provided to you, wonder for a bit if its really vegetarian, and then because there is no one to verify, try a bit, and leave it because it tastes bad, not because it tastes like meat.
When you try to surreptitiously look around the plane for any guys worth trying to catch a second glimpse of.
When you curl up on the seat adjacent, without worrying about disturbing someone else’s peace.
When you spot that female with beautiful hair, and try to catch a glimpse of her face to see if it matches with the wonderful hair. (It did)
When you get off at the connecting airport, see a model of something you know your best friend would love, and pick it up for him without worrying about how it will damage your credit card conversion.
Because, after ages, there is Marathi floating around you in speech bubbles. And the shrill Saathiya ringtone ringing somewhere, with a mother calling out to her child in Gujarati, a Parsi wife asking her husband to speak softly, a muslim guy spiffing his hair up to impress that wonderful hair female mentioned above, an old uncle in a safari suit carrying a peti around, and a young kid in military pants trying to steal his sister’s ipod. And you are absorbing it in all alone, and smiling contently.
When you happily think about only those patchy parts of an issue you want to think about. The rest will be thought about when anyone else is concerned about it. You are not at the instant.
Because when you finally get 12 hours just for yourself, you enjoy them like never before.
Flying with yourself is magical, but somehow at the beginning of the journey you always wish you had someone standing in the security check line with you, with their arms around you.
But, I love flying with myself. Because I am not alone, I have me for company.