Bound for, Arriving in NYC
I like that the huge icon of the aircraft, larger than the entirety of the UK if not most of the European continent on this map, has arced a thin white line across the screen, grossly simplifying all that has occured within the past workday's worth of hours we've spent on this plane.
Intercontinental travel, once the dream of millions of migrants and an arduous, filthy journey across the ocean aboard a slow-moving ship is now a matter of inconvenience, something those of us who can travel complain about and insist we be indulged during.
This Norwegian Air plane is one of the new Boeing 787 Dreamliners. We passengers swipe our credit cards in the headrests and stale, chewy-crusted, but overreheated-in-a-microwave just for us food, like the $10 ham and cheese sandwhich I ordered in desperation at hour 6 of 8, appears seatside in minutes.