Often times the trail to the trail leads us through the friendly skies.

What, you say?

That's right.

To get to the trail sometimes, whether it's out west or down south or Europe or Patagonia, you've got to fly.

And flying is an adventure in itself, especially in this post-9/11 world. It's at least always interesting, provided you approach it with the right attitude. Which mostly involves patience.

I made yet another plane trip just a few weeks back. Per usual I scribbled a few notes down during my half-day excursion to the west. And thumbing through my notebook last night I came across these random thoughts on my latest bout with plane travel:

* Note to self: When traveling by Concord Trailways to Logan on a Saturday, get to the bus station early. Very early. Must be that I've never bussed it out of Portland on a Saturday before, as I was totally not prepared to find the station teeming with people at 4:45AM. I got the last seat on the 55-person bus. I don't honestly know what I'd have done if I'd been just one step back in line. I didn't stick around to find out. Just grabbed by ticket and bags and slipped through the door to my waiting bus.

* How is it that people still show up at travel ticket counters with no ID? And then yell at the agent when they are denied boarding. Uh, what rock do you live under?

* Arriving at Logan via bus I noticed a very long line queued up for the sky cap desk, my usual MO. I walked past the line into the terminal to see if the indoor check-in was any less busy. Of course I went right for the new, faster self-check in kiosks. Again, a long line of people slowly shuffling forward, clutching cups of coffee and kicking their bags ahead. Around the first bend in the check-in merry-go-round, I noticed their was nobody--nobody--in line for the regular, old fashioned human check-in. Under the rope I went. And was headed for security, boarding pass in hand, in seconds.

* With time to kill I experimented with security by not removing my shoes. And I didn't beep. But rather dumbly, my Swiss Army knife set the machine off. But rather than having to turn over my precious knife to security, never to be seen again, I was able to mail it home. For $12. Note: Ignore the supposed rule changes to acceptable carry-on items (knives with blades less than 3" were OK, so I thought). They vary from airport to airport. Pack the knife in the checked bag next time just to be sure.

* I love getting to end of the security line with carry-on bag, laptop, laptop bag, jacket, hat and whatever else in hand and shuffling out into the terminal walkway looking for a place to get re-packed and re-dressed. At least this time I still had my shoes on. It'd be funnier I guess if security wasn't so serious these days.

* Why is it that the airport bar isn't open at 7AM? Is it just me? Or is no one else interested in a breakfast beer with their morning paper?

* Why is it that loading a plane is like watching a clip from Night of the Living Dead? Seems people lose all ability to move along at anything more than a snail's pace down the ramp and up the aisle of the plane. Where, of course, you are met by people who loaded fifteen minutes ago still standing in the aisle fussing with their carry-on and blocking 150 people behind them from advancing toward the rear of the plane. Can you say "awareness of your surroundings"? I knew you could. Shove it in and sit down, will ya?

* Why must the person behind me jerk my seat when they get up to move each and every five minutes? At this rate she will surely set a record for trips to the restroom on a five hour flight. And I may set a record for high annoyance factor. But then, that's maybe why the flight attendant is now handing me a second Bloody Mary. Happy place, happy place...

* Did you know that the new airline seats have a head piece you can fold out to cradle your head? And keep you from slumping over your seat mate and drooling on them. Maybe they've always been there, but I'm just now noticing? In any case, they're cool, and they keep my head from jarring violently every time the jerk behind me gets up for the john. Nice touch.

* Jeez, where are my meds anyway? Hope they're not in my checked bag...

* I love the roar of the engines. The going. The ability to cover thousands of miles in just hours. The view from above.

* Are those rivets on the wing loose?

* What really happens in the hour between the time you land and the time your baggage pops up out of the chute and slides its way toward you on the carousel? Do the baggage handlers stop to pee? A smoke? Ten smokes? A couple of pops? And why is it that anyone in an airline uniform can't tell you why your bags haven't surfaced yet? And why baggage claim displays never match the actual carousel? A little game of "find it if you can" maybe. That'd be fine if my bus home hadn't just driven off.

* I love flying. I really do. And I really am patient. Honest.

The view from seat 11F.