My dream was interrupted by a soft British accent, a BBC announcer in London where it was already mid morning. It took a moment to shift from my dream to realize it was already time to rise if I were to make my 6:10 flight. While early morning flights are fine in theory — I can make it to the west coast before noon – I usually question my choice when the alarm goes off.
This morning, the flight from Manchester left the gate early, took off to the north, and banked eastward. Sitting in 3A, I had a near-perfect view as we turned south at the ocean, Portsmouth below, and traced the coast to Boston, the distinctive crooked outline of Cape Cod clearly visible and seeming smaller than it should be. Still pre-dawn, the eastern horizon was outlined in the glow of hot embers, yellowing at the point where the sun would soon rise.
Witnessing the dawn from 30,000 feet more than justifies a 4 am wake-up.