Twinkle, Twinkle
Years ago in a magazine (I forgot which one) I read an article on light pollution - essentially the artificial brightness of the night sky. The article included a satellite view of the United States at night with a lacework of urban centers and interstate highways beaming brightly. Since then I’ve been a bit more cognizant of that strange glow overhead.
I clearly remember driving towards Glasgow from the Borders and seeing this orangish radiance on the otherwise black horizon. (Note: Glasgow is one of my favorite places on the planet, and I’m sure the moisture in the air enhanced the glow - especially when contrasted with the sparsely-populated land to the south.)
When you step outside at night in Atlanta, it doesn’t take too long for your eyes to adjust. Even without a full moon, there’s enough lighting from street lamps, nearby buildings, and passing cars to see whatever you’re doing.
But I’ve digressed so much from my original train of thought before I started typing these words. Here’s what I really wanted to express:
It sucks that the sky’s often to bright in Atlanta to see the stars. But since the newly-hyphenated Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport holds the distinction of being the busiest passenger airport in the world, there are lots of shiny things to see in the sky! Maybe you think that’s a poor substitute because stars have this ancient, mythological, romantic, scientific connotation. Well, I find it fascinating to image where all those people on that plane, and that one, and that one are coming from or going to. What adventures are being had? Who will those passengers be sharing those experiences with? Which loved ones are being left behind and which ones will soon be reunited? Airports really intrigue me, but just seeing planes in the air gives my imagination much more room to roam.