Flying long-haul is so conducive somehow to thinking deeply, to a real reflection of one's life, and often, this leads to tears. For me. Perhaps its the fact that we are in such a magical place above the clouds, in between borders and regulations; we are kind of disembodied, with our past, present and future all getting criss-crossed. We are in No-Man's Land where time zones are continually shifting and where, for the only time, you can feel a little, a tiny bit, like God surveying the world below. I have shed so many tears on flights, and this one is no exception. And of course, the inevitable small bottles of wine also help this pondering. Do other people have this? I peer through my tears around my fellow passengers and no one else seems to- they seem quite happy watching Anjaana Anjaani or The King's Speech. Of course the low levels of oxygen could also be responsible.
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