I take sick joy in flying. Most people hate air travel. I get it—the atrocious lines, the cramped seating, the overpriced gum at Hudson News. I endure it because it provides many hours of blissful me time. I devour podcasts. Kindle books. Magazines. Entire Pink Floyd albums. I might even chat with my wife a little. (I never, ever, pay for Wi-Fi. It always sucks and it makes me think about work.) I absolutely love it. Headphones are a big (really big) part of this narcissistic orgy of self.