I flew into Champaign IL on a small commuter plane earlier today. It had propellers. On big commercial liners, somehow it doesn’t register that—holy shit!—we’re leaving the earth and shooting through the sky. On these little jets, you hear all the rattles, notice the plane’s dips and wavers more acutely, and generally feel more connected to the experience. What a thrill. Got a taste of the romance of flight.