I took a break for a few minutes minutes the other day while I was chopping some overgrown brush on the back of my grandfather's property to watch the airplanes as they roared overhead the last mile or so to Metro. Pictured on your left is a jet from Southwest Airlines approaching Metro, and it flew perhaps 200 feet over my head, lending itself to me for a few colorful pictures.
As a kid I used to run with my arms straight out and pretend I was piloting one of those jets. heck, maybe I thought I WAS a jet as I raced around the backyard like a hyperactive chimp wired on Benzedrine, punctuating my VROOOOMs with a few WHOOOSHes and BRRRRRRRs. No cares in the world about such adult concerns as home mortgages, downsizing, or public speaking anxiety.
Watching planes land and take off is a timeless, entertaining, and even a meditative activity, and you should park your car near an airport someday if you doubt the therapeutic value in wasting time staring at jets.