I first see you at the Manchester ticket gate negotiating for a seat upgrade to what Virgin Atlantic calls ‘Upper Class’. You are a mid-aged man in blue jeans, wearing a Texas t-shirt. But your accent is NOT American. You are British. More Yorkshire than London. More Ringo Starr then Elton John.
Next, I see you in the main cabin, shoving a backpack into overhead compartments and settling casually into your seat, organizing earphones and snacks while a line of (at least) 15 people, including myself, stand in the aisle waiting.
You will be my seatmate for the 7.5-hour trip across the Atlantic in the section known as, ‘Economy Delight’.
I am returning to the U.S. after a pilgrimage to North Wales where I rediscovered peace — an unfamiliar sensation in the political firestorm that is the USA in spring 2024. I resided in a stone cottage. I walked miles each day. I stood by the Irish Sea looking out and up, at mountains and castles. I walked the lane, past meadows of sheep and lambs, to a small river whooshing over boulders where the quality of light affected everything it touched. You can imagine Druids or fairies in this mossy ancient woods. Magic.
Peace and Magic.
