2010 August « lyrical scales of aortic tales' blog

I loved to fly when I was a child. People hurrying to and from destinations, carrying baggage and babies. Meeting your temporary neighbors in the seats next to you. Soaring above the cities. Everything was nice. Now, as I sit in seat 24E, wedged between two men – or boys, rather–, at 1:30 in the morning, I forgot what it’s like to love this. The guy in 24D is less than charming with his printed shirt stating that I “have the right to remain sexy…” and his droning repartee of current events. I realize he’s part of the armed forces, when he loudly comments to himself “boy, I just got powned by a boot. Never thought I’d see the day….” I assume he means the young boy grinning awkwardly in first class. I smile, then quickly pretend to be deep in my book. He says things like “here comes the seat nazi” when they ask us to prepare for take-off. He mutters “breaker breaker five nine, we need jumper cables, the engine ain’t turnin’ over… heh heh heh” while we’re waiting for permission to fly. His jokes are lost on me, and I sit quietly behind my curly hair, thanking God that it’s hiding my eyes from his. The boy in 24F is quiet, almost ghost-like. He says nothing, only stares out the window and listens to rap music. Once, he shielded his phone so that the light would not shine in my eyes. That was very thoughtful of 24F, as 24D was breathily snoring on my neck.

After three hours of shifting and sleepless dreams, the sun came up. We dipped low enough to make out the landscape of the towns below. There were grids of houses with the occasional blue spot. How often do these people swim in their pool? Do they know that people fly over their home and wonder about their pool activity? I’ve never actually seen someone swimming while I was spying on them from the airplane. I think that 24F and I were sharing the same ponderings, because he was tracing circles on the window as he peered out.

We landed in Memphis at 7:30 a.m., central time. I was greeted by a wave of humidity and boyscout troop 19. I think I’ll fly mid-day from now on.