The Best Seat on the Plane

Why is the window seat the best seat on the plane?

Most people would say it's because of the view.

But what if it's something much deeper?

In this episode of Notes from the Window Seat, I explore why I always chose the window seat—and how that simple choice has become a philosophy for travel, photography, business, and everyday life.

Along the way you'll discover three lessons the window seat teaches us:

• Perspective – Sometimes we need distance before we can truly see.
• Anticipation – The journey begins long before we arrive.
• Attention – The best moments belong to those who slow down long enough to notice them.

Whether you're planning your next adventure, leading a business, or simply trying to be more present, this episode is an invitation to become an observer instead of simply a passenger.

In This Episode

• Why I always choose the window seat
• The beauty of watching a sunrise over a new country
• Why anticipation is part of every meaningful journey
• The surprising lesson hidden in the middle seat
• How photography teaches patience

"The best seat on the plane isn't about the view. It's about becoming an observer instead of simply a passenger."

The best views rarely belong to the people in the biggest hurry.

Before you rush to the next thing, pause for just a moment. Look out your own window. You might discover that the moment you were racing toward has already begun.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Where in your life have you been so focused on arriving that you've forgotten to enjoy the journey? Grab a cup of coffee and pull up a chair by the window. Have you ever noticed what happens just before a plane takes off? When you look around, some people are already asleep. Some are answering one last work email. Some are snapping selfies trying to squeeze in one more social media post before the cabin door closes. And then there's that one person staring out the window. Watching the baggage carts weave around the airplanes, watching the ground crew signal to one another, watching the wing flex as the engines begin to come alive. Watching the runway disappear beneath them as a plane slowly lifts into the sky. Well, I'm that person. While we're doing confessions, I'll admit something else. I'm one of those people who opens the window shade the second the plane pushes back. I know you're trying to sleep. You've probably flown with someone like me, and I'm really sorry about that. But I can't help it. I don't want to miss anything. And there's one moment I especially love. Most international flights leave in the evening, and somewhere during the night, while much of the cabin is asleep, the first light of morning begins to appear. I always lift the shade. I love watching the sunrise from 35,000 feet. There's something magical about seeing a new day appear above the clouds. In that moment, I always find myself thinking, I wonder what stories are waiting down there. For me, the journey begins long before we land. And I think that's why the window seat has become such a meaningful metaphor for the way I want to live. People often ask me why I choose the window seat. The truth is, it isn't just because of the view. It's because of the perspective. At 35,000 feet, the world looks different. Roads become ribbons, cities become patterns. Storms that seemed overwhelming from the ground suddenly become something you could actually see beyond. The higher we climb, the more clearly we understand how everything fits together. I've often wondered why that's so much harder to do in everyday life. When we're standing in the middle of a problem, it feels enormous. Yet when we step back, even for a moment, we often discover it wasn't the whole picture. Perspective changes everything. I've also realized something else. I don't think the middle seat is uncomfortable just because you're squeezed between two strangers. I think it's uncomfortable because you don't really experience the journey. You can't see where you've been. You can't see where you're going. You spend most of the light simply existing. And sometimes I wonder how many of us are living our lives from the middle seat, busy, productive, checking boxes, meeting deadlines, getting through another week, but never really looking outside, never noticing, never wandering, never wondering, never allowing ourselves to simply experience where we are. The window seat reminds me that life looks different when we slow down enough to gain perspective. That's been true in my travels, it's been true in my photography, and yes, even in my business. Some of the biggest breakthroughs I've ever experienced didn't happen because I worked harder. They happened because I stepped back, because I looked at the situation differently. Sometimes the answer wasn't changing the problem. It was changing where I was standing. Here's something else I've learned from travel. The trip doesn't begin when the plane lands. It begins the moment you decide to go. Booking the ticket, pulling out the suitcase, walking through the airport, watching people from all over the world heading towards some adventure of their own. Anticipation is part of the experience. Yet we spend so much of life rushing towards a destination that we miss the excitement of getting there. I think we do this with careers, with business, even with our lives itself. We're always chasing someday instead of appreciating today. Photography has reinforced this lesson even more than anything else. The photos I'm most proud of almost never happened because I hurried. They happened because I waited, because I stayed, because I looked just a little longer than everyone else. Sometimes that meant waiting for the perfect light. Sometimes it means giving a nervous dog time to trust me. Sometimes it means putting the camera down altogether and simply experiencing the place before I try to photograph it. Patience reveals what rushing never could. One of the things you'll hear me say often on this podcast is what's the rest of the story? Because every place has two stories. There's the obvious story, the one everyone sees, and then there's the quieter story waiting underneath. Most people photograph the famous landmark. I find myself wondering about the little cafe around the corner, the person opening the bakery before sunrise, the fisherman already out on the water, the woman quietly sweeping the sidewalk in front of her shop. The conversation happening at the next table. Those are the stories I remember most. And I think life works that way too. The best stories are usually happening just outside the frame we're focused on. So this week I'd like to leave you with a question. Where is your window seat? Maybe it isn't on an airplane. Maybe it's your front porch. Maybe it's your favorite coffee shop. Maybe it's when you take a quiet walk with your dog, or on a park bench, or an empty stretch of beach just before sunrise. Some place that reminds you to slow down, to notice, to wonder, to become an observer instead of simply a passenger. The best views rarely belong to the people in the biggest hurry. This week, before you rush to the next thing, pause for just a moment. Look out your own window. You might discover that the moment you are racing towards has already begun. Thanks for joining me. Until next week, grab a cup of coffee, find your own window seat, and slow down long enough to notice.