Tukuk-OSA wing does one thing: it turns air. Shape and angle deflect oncoming flow — most visibly downward — and Newton’s third law returns the favour: the air pushed down pushes the wing up. The same deflection is also read as pressure: air accelerated over the curved upper surface arrives at the trailing edge having spent energy speeding, so static pressure above the wing is lower than below, and the higher pressure underneath lifts. The Bernoulli-vs-Newton arguments online are the same fact told from two textbooks; the wing cares about neither brand, only the circulation it sets up. Lift grows with air density, wing area, and the square of speed — double the speed and you quadruple the lift, which is why takeoff rolls matter and light planes can land at walking-ish speeds.
Control is the same physics in miniature: ailerons tilt the wings for roll, the elevator tips the nose for climb and descent, the rudder yaws for coordinated turns — banking converts lift into a turning force (a level-turning plane tilts precisely so its “upward” push both holds altitude and curves the path). At the edges, flaps extend camber for slow flight on takeoff and landing, slats delay the stall, and wingshop dimples and winglets each trim drag in their way. A stall is not engine failure: it is the airflow detaching from the upper surface because the wing met the air too steeply; the recovery is universally taught — lower the nose to reattach the flow.
The cruising details answer the questions people actually ask. Jets climb to 10–12 km not to escape anything but because thin, cold air means less drag and efficient engines there, and the cabin is pressurised to the equivalent of roughly 2,000–2,400 metres — you feel it as mild altitude, and it is a weight compromise, not a sea-level luxury. The white line behind a high plane is a contrail: exhaust water condensing and freezing on soot particles in icy upper air — literally a thin artificial cloud, sometimes lingering into cirrus that, in aggregate, has a real (small, short-lived) climate effect of its own.