The eastern banks of the Mississippi are glowing red in the very last light of day. Imagine the view from the top of those bluffs as the setting sun dips to the horizon and the river descends into darkness. But what a view this is, watching it all from 30,000 feet.
St. Louis must be around here somewhere, but there's no sign of the city, nothing but the bluffs, the river and farm fields disappearing into the darkness in the east.
Our 737's engines begin to whine. The nose dips. The seatbelt lights come on. A flight attendant tells us to bring our seats and trays into an upright position and to turn off all our electronic devices and that they'll be making one more pass thru the cabin before they dim the lights.
Although the full width of Illinois is still ahead of us, we're coming in for a landing at Chicago.
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