Working right under the flight path today is a relentless, chest-rattling reminder that the world is moving at Mach 1 while I'm just sitting here trying to drink my coffee.
Every seven minutes, the ceiling fan shakes, the TV audio becomes completely useless and this massive metal tube roars overhead so low I can practically see the passengers arguing over the armrests.
It’s impossible to hold a thought, let alone a conversation, when thousands of tons of roaring steel are tearing through the air directly above your roof.
You just have to sit there, pause whatever you're doing, and wait out the mechanical thunder until the sky clears up for a brief, fleeting moment of silence.
Only to look at the clock and realise the next one is already on its final approach.
Ooft.
Dane.