Engines roar; we pick up speed. The shutter is open but it's too dark to see much more than the distant twinkling lights of the city. The opening chords of 'Come Fly With Me' play faintly in the background. The disembodied lights blur as we go faster and faster. There's a collective gasp as the jolts in our guts tell us we're in the air now; climbing higher and higher until the airport disappears beneath a layer of thin gray clouds. A magazine ruffles beside me. I look over as Beth unveils her face to whisper:
"I like cars. On the ground."
