JetBlue flight 1791 leaves Boston’s Logan Airport at 7:15 am and arrives at Tampa International Airport three hours and fourteen minutes later. Air temperature in Boston, 24 degrees. Flying at an altitude of 38,000 feet and an average speed of 500 mph, total distance of flight, 1,323 miles. Window seat 6A on the left side of the plane gave a nice view of the Boston area, but gathering storm clouds soon blocked the scenery. Broken clouds over northern Florida provided more scenery until landing. Tampa temperature 84 degrees. Spending three hours to retrieve 60 degrees in February, going from winter to summer is a good travel deal.

Photographer Julieanne Kost published a book called, “Window Seat,” a collection of her images taken through the plane window. She prefaces the book, “I think it’s ironic that the video screens on newer planes are almost the same size as the windows, and that so many people prefer to watch the packaged… predictable content on the screen rather than marvel at what’s outside their windows.”

Whenever I travel on public transportation, I always try to get a window view, even on the bus ride from Hyannis to Logan.

My Tampa flight was a one-way ticket. Return transportation was on the Massachusetts Maritime Academy’s new 525-foot-long training ship Patriot State. It departed Tampa Bay on Monday, Feb. 17 at 8:30 a.m. arriving back at the school’s Buzzards Bay campus on Saturday Feb. 23 at 5:30 after a transit through the Cape Cod Canal. The return trip headed south along the west coast of Florida down past the Keys, then into the Straits of Florida and the North Atlantic. Heavy weather off Cape Hatteras gave the new ship a workout. The ship’s speed varied, pushed along by the Gulf Stream it was making 20 knots, other times traveling at 8. The conversion is one knot equals 1.151 miles per hour, if you enjoy math.

Whoever said, “the sky is for speed, the sea is for serenity,” knew what they were talking about. The only bliss on the jet trip was looking out the window. Aboard ship, life slowed down. Two windows in my portside cabin provided non-stop viewing for six days. Rainstorms, sunshine, raging seas and morning sea fog, all right outside, 24/7.

The urge to rush was gradually replaced by reality, returning home was measured not in hours but in days, changes in latitude, not altitude. Driving home up Route 6 from the ship, even 55 mph seemed too fast. It’s good occasionally to slow way down and take in the long view.