Flying used to be an exhilarating experience for Rick Ross, but these days it’s just another tedious task devoid of much flare or romance. One essential but exhausting component of his life is his hurried flying from place to place, where his days begin and conclude.

Every morning, Rick Ross has to navigate the crowded airport terminals, where the excitement of taking off has long ago faded. The predawn hours are filled with the sounds of hurried footfall, announcements, and the steady hum of departure boards. His usual experiences at security checkpoints grow routine and uninteresting.

He enters another plane, finds a seat, and settles in, acting almost tritely. The breathtaking sights of the sky beyond the window no longer fill one with wonder. The grandeur of taking to the skies has vanished, and in its place comes a longing for the comforts of home and firm ground.

Over the day, Rick Ross jumps from plane to plane, disappearing into the next one. The formerly exciting and brand-new in-flight facilities are now antiquated. The aircraft’s incessant drone of engines contributes to the monotony of the routine and induces a state of numbing ennui in him.

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His lengthy layovers between planes at several airports give the impression that they would never end. Because of the crowded gates and busy airports, the view is constantly changing, but he has become used to it and views it as a normal aspect of his daily existence.

As night sets, he feels the weight of the last leg of his journey home. Fatigue sets in, and the once-vibrant sky outside his window gets dismal. He used to be continually reminded of how boring the lights in distant cities are, but now his life on the road is devoid of wonder.

Rick Ross gets off the aircraft late at night, delighted to be free of the claustrophobic aircraft and the tiresome monotony of air travel. He returns home to the monotony of the day’s trip, a continual reminder of the taxing cycle that will begin anew the next morning.

For Rick Ross, a sky is a place of employment and a prison, an unending cycle of flights that merge into a mundane continuity that makes him long for a change of pace from the mundane daily grind of dawn to dusk