This past summer, as you know from reading this blog, I took a trip to Northern California. In order to get a cheaper flight from the east to the west, I had a quick layover at LAX before flying to SFO.
When you're soaring miles above the ground, it's always sunny. Even if there's a rainstorm, the sky is blue and bright just meters above the clouds. So for most of the six hour flight to LAX, it was sunny.
As the plane started it's descent, a jumble of clouds appeared below. Soon the plane was cutting through a thick, never-ending selection of heavy clouds. I use the word 'cutting' since it wasn't at all smooth like I've experienced with past plane/cloud interaction. In the case of the arrival to LAX, the plane--and the passengers--felt as though it was trying to cut a piece of frozen cake with a plastic knife.
Two minutes went by, and land was finally visible. Except it wasn't the sunny city I was expecting from the view out my window just minutes before. I realized that the plane had just flown through what I'll call "overcast" clouds.
Landing in Los Angeles and seeing the overcast weather I couldn't help but become instantly fascinated with the thought that the sun was always out.
Next on my travel wish list: Outer Space.