i hate that song. hate, hate, hate it. my loathing of it has only really surfaced in the past few years as i’ve begun to understand that there’s nothing you can’t become or have, or experience, so it really doesn’t apply to me, or you. HOWEVER, (dramatic start to this blog post isn’t it?) friday night, it sure felt like i couldn’t get what i wanted. summer solstice is long gone, THANK entereverywordintheenglishlanguageTWICEhere, so with activity from the sun setting records, i had decided at about 5pm on thursday night, while at work (i like to plan well ahead), that i would get up in twelve hours and catch my trademark flight 108 up to yellowknife.

waking up saturday morning, i wasn’t feeling the most excited about life i had ever felt. i had just spent a long, exhausting night on my phone studying the weather, checking forecasts, watching weather patterns move, every fifteen minutes. the clouds never broke, and judging by aurora activity also on my phone, there was a great show to be seen. it sucked. it’s no fun being denied what you want. but, remembering back, i’ve asked over and over for gorgeous flights, amazing cloudscapes that entertain me for entire flights, and that, i wasn’t denied. the joy was in the journey, friends. i’ll be back.

i love my life. all this delicious variety, and beauty beyond which can ever be expressed in physical form. this is what i did today. this is my job. where i work.

It’s five fifteen in the morning, you’ve just had two and a half hours of sleep knowing a thirty hour travel day awaits you, and you’re standing outside a huge casino resort in flip flops with frozen toes, next to your 40 pound suitcase. Ask me how to stay forward looking in the midst of an extreme travel day. I’ve had some experience here, and here. I do it by anticipating pleasant rendezvous. By imaging the most beautiful skies. By hoping for the northern lights. By striving to enjoy the journey as much as I knew I would enjoy Turkey, Russia, Georgia, the Ukraine, and Greece themselves. So this time, without the long, dramatic travel day story, I was where I wanted to be, and these few images are but a fraction of that journey to Athens, where we would board our M/S Prinsendam to take us out into the Black Sea.

I don’t think I could have said it better than in the bigger letters above that first image. Many of our ground staff are pilots, and after a year or two on the ramp, they have their flight training and their first step into commercial aviation piloting is taken. Not me. People ask what the hell I’m doing on the ramp, and I tell them each the same thing… For the fun of it. Because I like it. Because I have access to photoshoots that are truly unique. Because I can fly to Norway for under $300. Because the people are awesome. Because I don’t need it, but because I want it. Because in the summer, sunset after sunset on the ocean never gets old.

Sometimes I just love to talk about how photogenic a couple is together, I mean actually dwell on it because I find it fascinatingly perfect. Enter Chris & Joanne, two who are exactly that. Chris & I have been trying to organise this for some time now, but it’s proved to be challenging with our schedules because if he isn’t off flying our aircraft, I’m busy sending them out or maintenance is working on them in the hangar. I met with Joanne at YVR, and we waited for Chris to finish his pairing and then beat the very aircraft he was flying over to the company hangar on the other side of the airport where we went to work in front of the camera.

Photographers, I know you know those shoots where it is entirely effortless knocking out image after image because your clients are so comfortable, and at such ease with one another it feels like you can shoot all night… This ranks extraordinary high there for me. And we probably could have done, but the boys at maintenance needed the aircraft and the mosquitos were RELENTLESS. I’ve never experienced them like that before. I have 8 bites on my neck alone. Insanity.

And for maybe the first time in my life, someone else put more effort into their hair than what I usually do. Or maybe it just seemed that way with Joanne helping you fix those headset flat spots, Chris ;) Enjoy you two, and all the absolute best on the 14th for your wedding day!

I love so much that each one of us has our quirks, and every one of us is the most unique expression of who we are and who we have become as a fantastic consequence of life. Every single one of us on this insanely beautiful planet. I especially love the way we come together as couples, and the absolute oneness and purity to the word unique in all of that. Megan & Mike are romantic, they’re… how can I say this politely, guys? …completely & entirely embracing of who they are individually, and what they have and still are creating together. And it inspires me. I mean it, guys – you’re probably reading this and laughing because we had the most open, fun, ridiculous, outrageous and random 24 hours together for the first time we’d ever met, but I mean it. Seriously.

So I’d spoken to Megan a few times on the phone, but it was focused more toward missing bags and full aircraft hold areas. We may have even e-mailed a few times just prior to deciding we’d have a ‘client meeting’ to discuss their wedding on the island next summer. Well, that was B.S. What client meeting? We don’t even know what that means. Ha, let’s be honest here right. So I dumped one of my shifts at work, and then got on a half hour flight from Vancouver to Campbell River on Vancouver Island where I was greeted by Megan & Mike, and my boss Barrie. (Hi Barrie! Thanks for letting us do the shoot on the ramp – it was AWESOME and we appreciate it!)

Honestly, I could write a million words about these two, and how much fun we all had. How great it was arriving as… well, not even really strangers, but as meeting for the first time, and leaving with an awesome new friend… erm… client. Megan, I’m not even going to open up the BFF can of worms. I know Jen will see this, and I don’t wanna get in trouble.
(P.S. Mike – you SUCK at Wii bowling, and the next time I crash on your couch – there is NO WAY things will go as poorly for me. Book it. Ha!)

I’ve had this post in mind for a few weeks now, and I’ve had much of it put together for over a week now. I wanted to hit the nail on the proverbial head – abundant in quantity, and purely remarkable in quality, but wanting those few things right NOW in a creative world is similiar to telling me I’ll have a breakfast exclusive of my love, Nutella. (see here.) I understand that for every night I drag my camera to work with me, I’ll have another image or five to add to this post, and that some will be better than others in different mind sets & conditions, with better timing or worse timing, but I’ve been itching to express creatively in an industry I adore, so here I am.
I loved documenting a little more socially to the scene you often see, or don’t see, from the terminal windows before your flight, and with weather & people this good, I don’t think it should stop.

Oh no. Not another Sean Norman travel story about flying home. I can hear your thought echo about it from here, but I just can’t help it. So if you’re new here, or really are having a horrendous morning and need to laugh at the misfortune of someone else, come on over and read forty-eight hours | the trip home from my attempt to make it home in one piece last summer. And this time, I thought I’d try it stand-by from the same part of the world.

It’s two days before my scheduled Lufthansa flights home to Vancouver from Tromsø. I’ve got a few hours to pass before I’m out the door for a night of chasing the northern lights with Kjetil, and isn’t it wise of me to log into our company site to check the flight loads coming home so I know I can count on there being space for me on my two Lufhthansa standby flights from Oslo-Frankfurt, and then Frankfurt-Vancouver.

Well, it depends how you look at it. The site displays the flight loads in three ways. A :-) for good space open, a :-| for fair space open, and a :-( for no space open. A week prior, both my flights were :-) and I was relaxed. Now I’m looking at the screen and all the faces are red :-(. Not only are they red :-(, but the first flight I was supposed to take is no longer even LISTED as a flight there. It’s been…cancelled? Destroyed? Demolished? Days before & after – same situation. Somethings up. Intuitively, I Google “Lufthansa strike?”. Yeeep. That intuition of mine is bang on again. Lufthansa pilots are to go on strike the 22nd. I’m listed to fly the 23rd. Have I mentioned I’m scheduled to be at work the 24th? No? Oh, I’m scheduled to work the afternoon of the 24th. Sweet.

Well, since I paid $160 for these two Lufthansa flights to get me from Oslo-Vancouver – it doesn’t feel very satisfying to be thinking about spending a few thousand dollars on a confirmed flight home all of a sudden. Oh, that’s right – The Olympics are happening in Vancouver right now, I wonder if I can even GET a flight there. My heart is in my throat. Thought: We get passes on Air Canada too. They fly into London’s Heathrow from Vancouver. Relief. Our pass office asks us to give them a minimum of two weeks to get us tickets for flying standby. I need these in less than 48 hours. In any case, I explain the situation to Carolyn at our pass office, and by the time I get home from just another extraordinary evening chasing the lights – she has me the Air Canada tickets I need. Heavenly. Well not quite.

I still have to call Air Canada myself and tell them exactly my date & time of hopeful travel. They don’t have a Norwegian phone number. It’s a 1-888 number. From Norway. Do you have any idea how spectacular the roaming charges would be to stay on hold with them for 20 minutes before I got a representative? I thought so. A few e-mails later, a friend back home has called for me and done everything that phone called needed to accomplish. Relief. Sort of. I book the flight from Tromsø-Oslo. $122. Now the search for a flight from Oslo-London. The cheapest that is coming up is $400. British Airways fares start at $1800. For a two hour flight, really? This leg previously was costing me $22. I settle on a fare with Norwegian.no for $270, except it’s the morning after I arrive into Oslo, and into London Gatwick, not Heathrow. I’ll sleep in the airport. I’ll find a way to get from Gatwick-Heathrow within three hours. Moving forward with the booking process on their website… Ohh, an additional $12 for a checked bag. Ahh, $7 for my seat reservation. Ohh, another $9 for… WANTING TO PAY WITH MY VISA?! You’re charging me for paying on your website to book my flight with YOUR airline with a credit card?! Whatever. Fine. It’s booked.

Wake up the next morning, I’m delighted to see an e-mail from Wideroe Airlines for my Tromsø-Oslo leg telling me my Visa card has been denied. That’s fantastic. Re-entre all the information. Double check it. Triple check it. Denied. E-mail from Norwegian.no for my Oslo-London leg. My credit card has not been authorized. I check my Hotmail, which I haven’t checked in weeks. Cue e-mail from my dad…

“You must call the VISA card centre immediately!!!! 1-800-361-0152

They believe the card has been breached with some really weird charges on it. The card has been cancelled.”

Dad, I’m in Norway with my mobile phone. There’s now way in hell I’m calling Canada on it from here to confirm my card has been cancelled. They can deal with it right now. I’m sort of having other issues.

Terrific news though. Do you believe in signs from the universe? I’m starting to.
At this point, I re-book my two flights with my other Visa. The one in my name I’ve only had for a month or two. The one with a resulting credit limit of $500 because it’s so new. The one I just charged a few thousand kroner worth of clothes from H&M on yesterday. That one. The first flight. Approved. Relief. I find myself at Norwegian.no, wondering if the extra $12 for a checked bag, or the extra $9 for paying WITH my Visa will put me over the edge of the limit and deny the entire thing all over again. No negative e-mails. Sweet.

The only other foreseeable problem ahead lies at Gatwick, where I’ll need to find $42 for my bus ticket to transfer to Heathrow airport. Please, please, please, Visa, have enough space left on you for this one last thing to get me home. S-u-c-c-e-s-s, that is how you spell success! Glad you picked up on that Simpsons line too :)

At this point, I’d like to mention how I would have just gone to an ATM in the centrum of Tromsø, and take out a few hundred dollars to pay for my flights AT the airport, and I did head to two different ATMs in the centrum to do just that… However, (Can you sense what’s coming?) it can’t be that simple.

I walk up. Card in. English selected as my language. 1900 Norwegian Kroner selected as my withdrawal amount (About $300 – my card limit per day is $400). “Your bank would not approve this transaction. Please take your card.”

Are you kidding me? Actually?

Card back in. English. Let’s try 1400 Kroner – just over $200. “Your bank would not approve this transaction. Please take your card.”
Card back in. English selected. 900 Kroner – $150. “Your bank would not approve this transaction. Please take your card.”

Sigh. I am amazing and travel the world. Remember I actually wanted to do this at one point, Sean?

English. 400 Kroner – $75. Spits out my money, and I realise – that was rather useless. $75 is not the $122 that my flight costs. Spectacular. I went chocolate shopping and kept 55 kroner for the airport bus later. Best decision so far, and thankfully, one of the last I had to make financially for a few days.

My flight from Tromsø arrived in Oslo just before 11p. Only 5 more hours before check-in opens for my flight to London at 6:25a the next morning. I’ll just find a decent bench/set of chairs/single chair somewhere with a plug for my laptop so I can relax, edit some photos and maybe even send off an e-mail or two before I get a few hours of sleep. The benches are harder than the floor. There are no chairs. And there are no plugs. Only cleaning machines spraying water all over the floor and then zooming ahead to dry it up. All. Night. Long. So I power up my Macbook, and my battery is flashing red at under 10%. I really would love to send an e-mail to Jen so I could humour her, and let her know I’m half well… Somehow I manage to frantically type type type type and steal a wifi signal that allows the e-mail to send. A small miracle.

Oslo Airport, why can’t you have free internet like Helsinki? I love Helsinki Airport. Not you, Oslo Airport. Do you really think I’m in a position to pay 150 Kroner ($25) for 24 hours of internet? Speaking of putting myself in a position of charging 150 Kroner to my Visa that is about to explode violently, I drag myself and my backpack to the 24 hour Cafe and gently ask the girl behind the counter for a chai latte & chocolate chip cookie. “Just… if you wouldn’t mind trying to charge my Visa first before you make the drink… it’s sort of a long story, and although I still have another 4 hours before I have to check-in… it may not be enough time to explain.”

And so there I was. Lying on the floor in Oslo Airport, spooning my backpack, breaking off pieces of my chocolate chip cookie to go with my chai latte in the first few hours of my 28 hour journey home to Vancouver.

Let me mention at this point, when I got home – one of my good friends at work who heard about the Lufthansa strike & knew I was supposed to be coming home on them greeted me at the airport and proceeded to inform me that they actually decided at the very last second not to go on strike after all. But what’s life without a little adventure right? Certainly not mine.

I am. It’s ridiculous, and I’m not sure I really understand it and how it happens but I’m just richly blessed. Imagine!
There is so much I want to write, so much I want to say thank you for. Not only making both of my flights on standby travel, but being assigned a window seat on one, and the bulkhead (row with extra legroom) on the other. Surviving a snowstorm in Frankfurt airport and still getting out on time to connect in Oslo for my third & final leg up to Tromso, where I’ll now reside for the next week and a half.

I have to tell you, 28 hours of travel from Vancouver to Tromso was exhausting but on the 27th hour up at 35,000 feet looking out the window and seeing the aurora borealis dance again for the first time in two years & one month – I forgot all about being tired, or how wrinkled my clothes were, or just how utterly disgusting I was. It was magic, and not a thing in the world can compare. So while I sit here in the living room, enjoying being interrupted every few minutes by Kjetil’s two boys who are in LOVE with Guitar Hero – I feel indeed, richly blessed.

The sun has set on Tromso outside, and twilight is quickly approaching which means just after we sit down to dinner here now – we are off into the countryside until the wee hours of the morning to chase the northern lights, my absolute favourite.

I love to make believe. I love feeling inspiration, I love continued inspiration and allowing it to flow. I love feeling the life force behind just being a part of the inspired action I take. I love working at the airport, and I looove that I have opportunities to express creativity in an industry I adore. I love when my timing is perfect, and I love beautiful sunsets. I love twilight skies! I love how AWESOME the people I work with are. I love being so weird that photographing aeroplanes makes me feel exhilarated. I love knowing I’ve taken a beautiful photograph. I love feeling the natural flow of life. I love allowing, I love appreciating, I love basking, I love it allllllll!

Good time for the photographs that inspire such an outburst!

This is a story that, as it was happening, I knew I would hesitate to tell once I’d arrived back home. I think I’ve managed to only tell it just once so far, and to a large group. So if you, like myself, enjoy laughing at the misfortune of others & love a good travel story, go get yourself a cup of tea, change into your jimjams & grab a blanket because it’s a touch long – but I promise to keep it as short winded as I can.

Travel route: Helsinki-Stockholm-Helsinki-New York-Los Angeles-Seattle-Vancouver Total travel time: 48 hours. (Not including time zones)

Those of you who have been following my travels know I paid nearly $400 out of the blue for an additional flight just hours before I needed it (Stockholm-Helsinki R/T) on my way overseas. So it’s the night before I call Finnair and ask very nicely if it’s possible instead of travelling all the way from Helsinki-Stockholm to come back to Helsinki for my flight to New York, if it would be possible for me to just skip the first two flights & get on in Helsinki for my flight to New York. “No, sorry, if you do not show up for a prior leg in your reservation – your remaining flights are canceled.” Fine. So instead getting a good nights sleep & leaving at 3pm, I sleep for 2.5 hours and leave at 6am.

After threatening with an all nighter, I reluctantly lay my face to rest one last time on the floor of Anna’s Helsinki apartment and set my alarm for 4:45am. I stumble out the door with my 50.2lb backpack on my shoulders and flag down the bus for Helsinki Vantaa airport. It’s packed, but I manage a seat anyway. I get to the airport, and get off at the second bus stop for international. Finland-Sweden is inter-nations isn’t it? Apparently not. After walking a further 5 minutes in the wrong direction, I stop and ask someone – Yeah, I’m in the wrong terminal. Blue1, my airline, is a 15 minute walk that way. Excellent, we’re now down to 55 minutes before departure. I get into the back of the extraordinarily long line at check-in and watch minutes tick off the clock still. Thankfully, one of their employees shouts for any more passengers travelling to Stockholm at 8am to please come forward… Yeah, that’s me, thanks, folks!

Made my flight. It’s scheduled to be just over an hour, which would have us arriving at shortly after 8am local time. We’re 15 minutes early, so I’ve actually gone back in time now and it’s 7:50am when I get off the plane. So, lets fast forward five hours of sitting, standing, stretching, eating, and walking in Stockholm’s Arlanda airport. Check-in with Finnair for my flight back to Helsinki now – another uneventful hour goes by in the air, and we touch down well early again. I know Anna is flying out to Iceland in less than twenty minutes, I make a dash for her gate to see if I can catch her. Briskly walking, someone taps me on the shoulder from behind – CUTE – Anna found me somehow among the masses at HEL.

So… 12 hours down, 36 more to go. Seriously? It had gotten to the point where I just really couldn’t see or feel the end anywhere within reach, pretty discouraging when all I want is to be tucked into a warm, comfy bed surrounded with love. Back to reality, as I created it. I get into my window seat, and was already one of the last ones to board… the one seat next to me is still empty. Thinking softly to myself – wouldn’t it be nice if I caught a break here & it was empty for the 8 hours & 10 minutes to JFK. She must’ve been the last person boarded – makes a b-line down the aisle and stops beside me. I hear her talking to herself, or to her 4 carry on bags she’s trying to jam into the full overhead bins without much success. I turn my head and press my face against the window because the last thing I want is to talk to this lady who clearly needed a little attention in more ways than one. She finally crashes into her seat, I feel her turn to me… “And how are you today?”. Before I could answer she’s neck deep in conversation about where she’s come from & how tired she is… Ohh, you don’t know the half of it, lady. 8 hours later, we’re about to land and she’s now cursing to herself about the (quiet) people behind us, and how they’re kicking her seat. Really? Ohh, this is after she’s pressed the call button three times accidentally on her armrest.

Arrival at New York’s JFK. It’s just past 7pm local time, I know my flight with Virgin to Los Angeles isn’t until the next morning but maybe if I hurry to check-in, I could go stand-by for their last flight tonight! Wouldn’t that be great! Spend the night travelling instead of on the floor at JFK. Anyway, rush for customs & get made fun of (lovingly) for writing on my form that I’d be staying ‘Inside JFK’ as my accommodation while visiting the US, and get told not even he would attempt to spend the night in the airport here – I carry on, collect my bags, find my way to the Airtrain to eventually take me to Terminal 4 where Virgin America check-in is and… pitch black. No one at check-in, all signs taken down, lights off… I was going to be spending the next 13 hours waiting to come back here tomorrow morning.

Any of you who have travelled through JFK Terminal 4 know there is NO seating pre-security. None. Maybe 2 benches wrapped around a pole in the middle of the shops downstairs. How the hell am I going to spend the night here? Did I mention there are automated announcements booming through the terminal every 4 minutes for Air Inda, Qatar, El El… the list goes on. So upstairs, away from the check-in counters near employee access points – I find a darker corner with a power socket for my laptop. It’ll do, for now. I plug in the laptop, ohh, and I’ve broke the power cord so it’s really touchy and every time I move, the battery starts wearing down and I’ve done this so many times now that the battery life on here is now about… 15 minutes. It’s like a time bomb before the computer dies. So here I am, lying on the concrete floor at JFK with my laptop out & my backpack supporting my head against some disgusting old wall paying $8.95 for 24 hours of WIFI. After about an hour of this & my belt digging into my hip, and even a little bead of sweat running down my forehead because it’s so hot I decide ENOUGH! Maybe. Get the backpack back onto my baggage cart, and ask a couple of police officers for their advise on staying the night in here… “Ohh man, you’re not serious? Chain your stuff to ya man, or people will steal it for sure. Go get a hotel, just spend the money.” I’ve been travelling for 24 something hours… “Okay, you’re right.” $181 later, I find myself on the Airtrain again headed outside the terminals to some dark parking lot where this shuttle bus will pick me up. There are about 75 other people waiting – I didn’t think much of it. Only a few get on my hotels bus, but I decide to get on last so I can be the first one off and just waltz straight up to reception, check-in, get to my room & slumber away for the night.

Not. So. Much. I round the corner for the entrance and what should appear to my exhausted little eyes? About 300 bags piled high between all the doors, and a reception/lobby/restaurant area full of about.. Ohh, 100 people? All waiting to be checked into a room. Every. Single. One. It’s 10 o’clock in the evening. I have to be up in 8 hours for my flight tomorrow morning, and now I have to climb through suitcases & people to find the back of the line? Do I ever. Get to the back of the line – backpack down, tripod down, shoulder bag down. I ask the lady ahead of me what’s going on… “Ohh, you didn’t know? There was bad weather all day today at JFK, hardly any flights left & hundreds were canceled…” Mhmm. This is perfect. 1 hour & 45 minutes goes by, I’m now at the reception desk and am given my room, which I paid full price for – not spoiled with an airline voucher. Room 314. Elevator up, and at last I can just put my head to rest on a nice bed. I see my door… Hmm, there’s a do not disturb sign on my door, that’s a little odd – but maybe housekeeping just did it to keep the room for me – who knows. Put the key in the lock, unlocks – I turn the handle, and CLANK – the door is locked with that silly bar thing. Clearly, there are other people already in this room. Loovvvely. Backpack on one more time. I return downstairs, stand patiently first in line once again & ask for a room without other people in it this time. “I’m sorry about that sir, and all we have left now is a smoking room…” Fine, I don’t care… just… a room without other people in it, please. Room 354 this time. Upstairs I go, key in the lock – unlocked. Ever been knocked off your feet by a smell before? No? An overpowering smell of cigarette smoke in a hotel room ought to do it – believe me. Whatever, I open all the windows and within 15 minutes crawl into my sticky smoke infested sheets and cut the lights. Good night.

7:00am. My alarm calls me once again. Turn on the laptop to make sure my flight is on time – ohh, no WIFI in this fine hotel. Whatever. Get to the airport very uneventfully & check-in for my flight to Seattle via Los Angeles. After spending no less than an hour waiting in the security line up, I get to my gate – flight is delayed an hour. Really? Seriously? I could’ve slept another hour this morning instead of spending it waiting in line at security? Thanks. Not to mention that it’s still fairly early to departure so our plane could be… god knows where. Thankfully, it’s only a crew rest issue because of the weather yesterday and it will go just the hour late. Okay, fine. Breakfast… there is ONE place open inside Terminal 4 that has food – Wayne’s Coffee. The line up is about 20 people long. I get to the front of the line, pay my $9 for a cookie & a chai latte and what’s that off in the distance I hear? My flight is boarding. Apparently I spent 40 minutes in line at Wayne’s Coffee.

JFK-LAX – the most pleasant of my flying experiences on the way home. Nice people sitting all around me, gorgeous scenery out the window, good service & a little turbulence (which I love!). Arrive LAX – exactly three hours to kill before flight to Seattle. There’s nothing to do. Nothing. The terminal is like a fishbowl and I walked around the edge of the fishbowl maybe a dozen times. And it’s dirty, like worse than JFK. Time comes to board – get on my last flight – LAX-SEA. Again, uneventful & pleasant. Arrive Seattle – my brother is supposed to pick me up at 6:45pm. It’s now 7:15 and he texts.. “Yeah, I’m stuck in heavy traffic… just starting to see signs for the airport now.” Excellent. Just what I wanted – a little more waiting around before the three hour drive back to Vancouver to complete the journey. He arrives, I get in the car – and proceed to tell him this exact story.

If you actually read through all that, I don’t believe you. Just kidding, I love you all the more for it if you have, and if you haven’t – I don’t really blame you. How many cups of tea & coffee did you need to get through that anyway? Seriously, thanks for reading & thank you for all the blog love you’ve been leaving for me throughout the entire trip. Sure does feel good! Ohh, and we arrived home around 10:45pm after making stops for dinner, candy, gas etc. and I left the next afternoon for a six hour drive into the interior of British Columbia for a wedding! Pffft, jet lag is overblown anyway.

Often times I get asked what on Earth I’m doing working on the ramp at Vancouver Intl. Airport, especially without a desire to become a pilot or anything of the likes.  Usually I reply with how it’s just my fun job really, and that I often enjoy the diversity of the airport life with the privilege of being airside.  Everyday, I pack my little Crumpler 6 Million Dollar Home with things to take to work, along with my camera &  attached whatever lens I get the feeling for that particular day.

The universe is a magical, powerful & abundant source of everything we ever wanted, do want, and will want.  A week ago I stated an intention of just wishing how amazing it would be to combine romance, and aviation with photography all into one.  I had no idea how it could ever come about, and so I just enjoyed the thought, and imagined what it would be like to do.  I never worried it, and asked why it wasn’t happening – I just released it, and in that I released any resistance to my desire and once I did that – I was in a pure and positive state of allowing, which is the optimum state of creation.  Not one week later, Balazs, one of our First Officers here at CMA came in for his pairing which took him on the Campbell River overnight.  Romantic and gentle as he is, he asked his wife along with him for the trip.  I love spontaneous romance, and so naturally this just warmed my heart completely.  The only problem was – when I left for work today I’d decided to go with my 135mm lens.  So with everything in mind, Balazs and I headed to the aircraft a little early and boarded one very special lady earlier than the rest.  Julie, his wife.  It was one of the sweetest eight or so minutes I’d had all month.  They’re both from Hungary, and whispered to one another in Hungarian, which I think is most romantic, as I ran off a half kilometre to frame the shot from so far back with my 135.  These two have something special for sure.  My warmest thanks to Julie & Balazs here.

11°C and stunning sunsets… we’ve just begun February?  Nothing like a little of Mother Earth’s glory and those beautiful flying machines out on the Pacific Ocean.