Somewhere Over the Atlantic
Sept. 18- 19. Day One. On a plane. Nervous and calm at the same time and it doesn't really make sense. Thinking about things doesn't help it make sense. I think that the term "things" is vague, no matter how you use it.
Turbulence. Jitters spring up in my body every time it happens.
I wonder if this will break me. I think I'm doing it for the challenge. Something tells me I'll pull through.
Then there's that something else that tells me that failure is a distinct possibility. How can it not be, I think, I can failure not be a possibility?
The sky is a purplish blue. A lot of clouds, those are darker, but the sun is nowhere. I look at my watch. I guess we're over France. Or England. I don't even know the route, I think. Just know when I'll get there. Last time, I remember, Europe didn't feel so foreign. Seemed natural to me. Aside from the fact that I was a stranger in a strange land.
Munich. Maybe they'll send me to Munich.
Maybe this will be the greatest moment of my life.
A baby is crying. The Stewardess asks her if she wants any chocolate milk. The stewardess told me earlier she didn't have chocolate milk. She's obviously lying to one of us. Why would you lie to a baby? Then again we've all done it.
How many people have done this, have been here, like me, somewhere over the mid-Atlantic, before? According to Facebook the Stars and Stripes doesn't exist. Facebook is, of course, the be-all and end-all of modern civilization. Thank you, God, for facebook. Lifeline.
Does the Stars and Stripes really exist? Haven't talked to the guy that hired me in weeks. Never returns my calls, hardly an e-mail. When communication exists it is short and swift and doesn't leave room for conversation. Vague.
I slept for 2/3 of the flight. Somehow. Then got up and sat next to some random girl who was asleep with an open seat next to her and watched the movie "Fracture" because my personal TV thing didn't work. Weird look on her face when she woke up to see me. Guess she thought I was putting the moves on her.
I think, deep down, I'm confused.
I feel the plane dip. We're going down, into the clouds and my ears are popping. A military man is sitting next to me. He looks rugged. G.I. Joe. I wonder if he is scarred or has ever been scarred or knows what scarred is. I wonder if he knows where he is going.
The plane dips.
Streaks of pink lick the sky and clouds. The sun is coming up.
Dawn is a nice time. Kind of symbolic.
Dawn. New day, new start, new adventure.
We land at dawn. Like Steve Zisssou, we land at dawn.
Turbulence. Jitters spring up in my body every time it happens.
I wonder if this will break me. I think I'm doing it for the challenge. Something tells me I'll pull through.
Then there's that something else that tells me that failure is a distinct possibility. How can it not be, I think, I can failure not be a possibility?
The sky is a purplish blue. A lot of clouds, those are darker, but the sun is nowhere. I look at my watch. I guess we're over France. Or England. I don't even know the route, I think. Just know when I'll get there. Last time, I remember, Europe didn't feel so foreign. Seemed natural to me. Aside from the fact that I was a stranger in a strange land.
Munich. Maybe they'll send me to Munich.
Maybe this will be the greatest moment of my life.
A baby is crying. The Stewardess asks her if she wants any chocolate milk. The stewardess told me earlier she didn't have chocolate milk. She's obviously lying to one of us. Why would you lie to a baby? Then again we've all done it.
How many people have done this, have been here, like me, somewhere over the mid-Atlantic, before? According to Facebook the Stars and Stripes doesn't exist. Facebook is, of course, the be-all and end-all of modern civilization. Thank you, God, for facebook. Lifeline.
Does the Stars and Stripes really exist? Haven't talked to the guy that hired me in weeks. Never returns my calls, hardly an e-mail. When communication exists it is short and swift and doesn't leave room for conversation. Vague.
I slept for 2/3 of the flight. Somehow. Then got up and sat next to some random girl who was asleep with an open seat next to her and watched the movie "Fracture" because my personal TV thing didn't work. Weird look on her face when she woke up to see me. Guess she thought I was putting the moves on her.
I think, deep down, I'm confused.
I feel the plane dip. We're going down, into the clouds and my ears are popping. A military man is sitting next to me. He looks rugged. G.I. Joe. I wonder if he is scarred or has ever been scarred or knows what scarred is. I wonder if he knows where he is going.
The plane dips.
Streaks of pink lick the sky and clouds. The sun is coming up.
Dawn is a nice time. Kind of symbolic.
Dawn. New day, new start, new adventure.
We land at dawn. Like Steve Zisssou, we land at dawn.
posted by Chris Miles at 6:58 PM
1 Comments:
"The plane dips.
Streaks of pink lick the sky and clouds. The sun is coming up.
Dawn is a nice time. Kind of symbolic.
Dawn. New day, new start, new adventure.
We land at dawn. Like Steve Zisssou, we land at dawn. "
Love that. Not just for Steve, but he made it better.
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