"I've flown over 194 missions and I was shot down on every one. Come to think of it, I've never landed a plane in my life." -Lloyd Bridges, Hot Shots

Denali, the Great One. Or was that Jackie Gleason? I can't remember. But, this is an unretouched photo of Denali. You can make this picture larger, like Greg did on The Brady Bunch to prove that his team lost a game they won, but all you have to do is click on it. This one is very cool, and worth the time (check out the glacier). Unless you're a communist . . .

Fortunately, I was not shot down on this plane flight.

Alaska is big, about the size of Texas and Asia, if you put them together. This may not be as large as Sean Penn's ego, but, it's still a pretty darn big place.

Darned if it isn't small, as well.

I was flying from Anchorage a while back and plopped down in my seat. As a guy who's spent more time in planes than Carrottop has spent listening to silence at the punchline, I know you're supposed to grab the aisle. You get in, have more shoulder room (which, for a magnificent sculpture of chiseled muscular manhood like me is important), and are first in line to pretend to be an NFL linebacker and push widows and orphans out of the way to get off the plane once it's landed.

I used to get the aisle seat.

Now, whenever I fly, I grab the window, and my camera. Alaska presents too many opportunities to take magnificent pictures. Denali always looks different, and no matter how often I photograph it, like a virgin on a wedding night, I never get tired of seeing something new.

So, I'm sitting by the window. A young gentleman had graciously let me by, and I had my book out - the ultimate in a Star Trek-like shield in a "leave me alone, I'm flying" sense. Another gentleman, this one older, finally showed up to take the center seat between us and the plane was now officially packed.



Our plane. No, just kidding, ours was smaller. But, I thought this looked snazzy, what with the artsy buildings, plane, and mountain backdrop. This is likewise enlargeable.

The plane, a 737 dating to 1937, and configured for carrying cargo up front (no kidding - half the plane consisted of cargo heading up to Barrow) lumbered into the sky. After the requisite warning that the I-Pod that would have previously sent the plane into a sudden and uncontrollable fiery crash could now be used to listen to The Clash without fear of turning oneself into and inadvertent mass-murderer, I unlimbered my camera for a few shots of Denali.

That's when I heard the most amazing thing. The passengers sitting next to me had never met each other. But, they began talking, and soon realized that the older gentleman is a lifelong friend of the younger gentleman's father. They talked at length about all things Fairbanks. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, and, was soon reading my book again.

But, it struck me: two people, never having met, knew all about each other.

Alaska is small.

I can't go to the grocery store without meeting someone I know. I can't go to Anchorage without running into someone I know. Heck, there was someone I knew on the same plane - just several rows ahead of me.

Alaska is huge in area, but small since there are more people who worship Ra, The Sun God than live up here.

I actually know my neighbors, by name. They know us, by name. I've heard the horror stories of the previous owner, who, to judge by their comments was a cross between Linda Blair's character in The Exorcist and the crazy cat lady on The Simpsons. I think they like us better.

When I stepped out of Fairbanks International Airport into 23F weather, I realized what had been wrong when I'd been in Anchorage - it had been a blistering 40F, and it was nice to be back where the weather was a bit more temperate.

I guess it just feels like home. My family and I have become accustomed to this place. And because this is where I buy my beer.