The Maricopa Audit from 10,000 Feet

 I got lucky on the flight this morning. It was a full flight---all flights are full lately, and even though I was in the A boarding group in Southwest, meaning I would have my pick of a window or aisle seat, but that certainly the middle seat would be full.

I went straight to back of the plane, where most of the rows were still open and found an window seat on the right side of the plane. I could put my backpack up in the overhead compartment in a relaxed way, where the front of the plane was jammed up. I like the right side of the plane because I am right-handed, and that leaves my writing hand on the free unshared armrest, which I've learned is much more comfortable.

Eventually the plane filled up. The flight attendant announced that anyone going down the aisle should choose a middle seat. I got the bonanza. The other two seats in the row were selected by a young mother and her young son, who was no more than four years old.  She took the aisle of course and the son took the middle. I smiled at him and said hello. He said hello back. It would be a good flight.

I opened my iPad and, without an Internet connection, I listened to one of my downloaded videos, in this case a recording of the Polish version of the rosary that had been originally livestreamed from the Lourdes grotto.  They don't do the rosary in Polish most days, perhaps once every couple weeks. I had kept one of the recordings because I want to learn the rosary in Polish, even though I don't speak that language beyond a few phrases. Someday when we can travel again freely, in every sense, I intend to go to Poland to visit an old friend of mine, and I am going to visit several Catholic shrines there. 

As I began listening to this, practicing saying words in the repeated prayer, picking out a few syllables I could imitate until I could put together a word here and there, the plane took off and began its ascent up from Sky Harbor airport. 

The young boy next to me was eager to see outside. His mother apologized to me for leaning over me, and I said it was perfectly fine. Sometimes it is the easiest thing in the world to be the kindly old man, like I am channeling being Saint Nicholas.

I peered out the window a few seconds later and recognized the arenas and tall buildings in downtown Phoenix. I realized we had taken off to the west, and would turn north.

I was delighted to see that, using the familiar diagonal slash of Grand Avenue, the old Highway 60 route that ran from downtown Phoenix in the old days, I easily found the state fairgrounds and the Veterans Arena, which is the building in the photograph of my previous post, where the Maricopa Audit is being held. Perfect timing.