Birds can fly. Humans, not so much. We, humans, have always had a fascination towards the idea
of flight, dating back to the ancient world with stories such as Daedalus and Icarus’s winged escape from
Crete. The possibility of being able to travel without having to navigate over mountains, across rivers, and
through forests screams for efficiency, which is what humans ultimately seek. After all, for over a few
thousand years, we’ve stared up towards birds gliding across the sky traveling with ease, thinking, “Hey,
we should do that too.” And somehow, with a mixture of hope and resilience, we did.

The first flight lasted twelve seconds, achieved by two brothers in the early twentieth century.
That’s less time than it takes for me to make myself a simple sandwich. Yet in those twelve seconds, the
Wright brothers successfully led humanity into a new dimension of transportation, one that had only been
occupied by other species. Over the years, the introduction of the “airplane” led to further development
for flight: planes became more sophisticated, more reliable, and could fly for longer periods of time.

Today, thousands of planes take off and land all around the world, bringing people, goods, and resources
from one place to another at astonishing speeds that the Wright brothers could only dream of.
As a kid, like the Wright brothers, I’ve also found myself captivated by and often experimenting
with the idea of flying. The easiest way was with paper airplanes; taking a single sheet of paper that could
be found anywhere in the house, and after a series of intricate and precise folds, resulted in an object
vaguely resembling two wings. The first paper plane I made was in China, when I was living with my
grandparents. My grandfather made a basic plane and threw it, and the three-year-old me jumped and
tried to snatch it mid-air like one of those giant monsters in action movies. It ended with me falling
straight forward on my face. Nevertheless, it was my first real experience with understanding flight. Later,
I tried to imitate my grandfather’s design by also folding paper. The result? A paper triangular-shaped
“thing” that nosedived right into the grassy field. Despite the lackluster achievement my first plane had, it
still sparked something in me— a fascination with the physics of flight, and more importantly, the idea
that something so simple, such as paper, if done correctly, could defy gravity’s pull, even if only for a
moment. That afternoon, I spent the entirety of my time folding pieces of paper, searching for the perfect
balance of weight, lift, and speed. Sometimes, my creations soared and glided the entirety of my
grandparent’s backyard. More often, they crashed straight into the ground, sometimes behind me. But
each throw was an act of hope, a feeling that resonated with those before me, those who thought that
eventually, by some miracle, humans could fly.

As I grew older, my relationship with airplanes changed. I no longer saw them as magical
machines, but rather innovative solutions to the problem of easy transportation— I found the ability to be
able to travel from one point to another across the planet in less than a day remarkable, something that
shouldn’t be possible. Yet humanity devised a method to do so, one used so commonly everyday bringing
people together and allowing us to visit the entirety of the globe. Nowadays, everytime I board a plane, I
still feel a flicker of my childhood self, a pang of innocent imagination. That one moment, just after
takeoff, where the entirety of the city comes into view from the plane’s windows, where highways seem
silent and cities seem slowed down, making the world seem stuck in a moment of peace and serenity.

Planes have become so normal in today’s world that we often forget how extraordinary they are.
Sure, the seats are often cramped, food service is often on the lower end, and luggage isn’t always treated
greatly. But the fact remains: in a single day, you could have breakfast in New York and dinner in Paris.
You can cross entire oceans in significantly less time than it used to take to cross a single country.
Aviation has made the world smaller, not by shrinking it, but by making travel more accessible. But each
marvel has its consequences: unfortunately, planes are a major source of pollution and climate change.

Each flight leaves a significant trail of carbon emissions, and the sheer number of flights each day burn
fossil fuels at a terrifying rate. After all, all modern-day innovations are some sort of double-edged sword,
one that brings us closer but also reshapes our planet in ways we currently cannot truly understand.
Regardless, planes are a wonder of human innovation, reflecting the human desire to go faster,
farther, higher. It reminds us of our history with aviation, from observing birds and wondering “We
should do that” to today, where we think “Hey, we did that.” Despite our flaws and lack of some
abilities— such as flight— as humans, we are still a species that dream to overcome these challenges, and
sometimes those dreams come true.
Overall, I give airplanes four out of five stars.