Last night, I flew into New York City to join Kirk, who has been here since Monday for a conference. We’re staying here through Sunday, just the two of us, to celebrate a landmark birthday he recently had.

My flight itinerary came on the heels of print week where I work — an intense multi-day process that involves several late nights and acute attention to detail.

When I got through security at the airport, on the heels of that hectic week plus the bustle of moving through crowds with two bags in tow, I was exhausted.

Thankfully, I found a quiet corner in a gate area that was not in use, where I could lean against a wall of windows and charge my depleted iPhone on the only wall outlet in the terminal that wasn’t surrounded by a zillion other tech users.

It was 30 minutes of introvert bliss.

I’ve decided an introvert’s ideal flying experience is the one I had last night: a half-full flight at night with quiet passengers and a whole row to myself. The debut album of the Lone Bellow was my company across the air-flown miles, and I alternated between reading Susan Cain’s exceptional book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking and staring off into space, thinking.

When I arrived in New York to reunite with Kirk, I was refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to experience the city.

I love flying — mainly because the experience gives my introversion time to breathe.
Do you ever experience flying this way?