Air travel is surreal as hell, I’m not sure I entirely like it. Flying to England is one thing, at least it’s overnight. You leave around 5 and get there at 8 in the morning or thereabouts, you have some sense of the travel time to impress you as to the distance. Flying back is something else altogether. You wake up in London, mad dash through the tube to Heathrow for a midday flight and when you get to Baltimore it’s only a couple of hours after you left London. Very odd.
As is a trip to Boston, by train or car it’s an 8 to 10 hour drive. By plane you’re there in one and a half hours. Hell, I jumped out of the car at Logan at 3 and was back in my vehicle in Baltimore and on the way home by 6. Cripes, I was sweating at home waiting for the air conditioners to cool the place down less than 24 hours after I was sitting in Fenway watching a positively disheartening late-inning loss by the Sox.
It’s a peculiar sensation indeed.