NWK to LAX
Six hours and eighteen minutes. Or less. There are some ridiculous looking people on my flight. A blues-styled african american LA hack. A couple moms. Two babes, at least from this distance. Some others. These are the people I may die with. It could go down (pun intended) a few ways, the way i see it. For instance, I may not even die. I may withstand a crippling hurl toward the earth and still manage to survive. The moms may not make it, theyre too ignorant of the world around them to prepare for the dirt-eternal. I think about death often. I dont think about taking my own life, but I see my last moments so often, I’ve taught myself a surefire breathe-length step in mental preparation for my terminal last miliseconds. But in my imagination, I see accidents, split second realizations- not slow deaths gnawing away at my heels.
So on a plane ride, what happens? An engine fails? A tail spin over the Great Plains? At 40,000 feet, how long does that take? Will a dark red light radiate around our panic striken bodies as yellow Solo cups dangle from elastic string? Not knowing bothers so many people. Not I. I’m brave. Also- on klonopin! Surprise! Kids, I’m going to be cold lamping on this flight. I wanted to share that because I believe that regardless of any pill i swallow, I’d handle death all the same. With nonchalance. With a chilled plastic cup of Coca Cola on my tray.
The seat inbetween my aisle and this dutch fellow’s window, is empty. Most of the flight is vacant and people have been uprooting, trading their cramped assigned seats for any avaialble elbow room. The luckiest girl, as far as i can tell is stretched out over seats A through C in row 22. Red headed, dreded, tatted and doc martined she shuffles her crossed heel as conent as I . I think her window is cracked open, maybe the only open blind on the plane. It’s 5:02 pm in New York and the map on the screen from the seat between me and Dutch shows us over central Michican. Coincidentally, I just turned off 30 Minutes or Less, one of an impressive plethora or film and television options available on my flight. Temperatura en el exterior reads -51 Celsius.
There’s a dense cloud the conjures a sort of ghost-trailing feeling with every movement. I look up, and the length of the cabin in front me of,the walls and the details are built up in front of me. It lags because I have to built it in my mind. Nothing is instant. Writing this maye take several editorial juxtposing, but I dont want to think about it. My thoughts have diminshed to a set of bare essentials. I’m typing. I’m tryping my actions, my visions, and my— an interruption:
The captain has put on the light signifying to buckle up. Incase we stop short, I wouldnt want to fly through the several coach rows in front of me, passing through the first class cabin and then create a self-sized hole through the cabin doors passed the pilots and land on top of a cloud only to then probably be sucked right back into an engine. Hwo much is wine? I shouldnt drink. Goodbye Michican air space.
Before boarding, I roamed around Newark for about 45 minutes notcing all the destinations people were heading to. I didnt bother to think about the people themselves. I didn’t care. I always thought of myself as a sort of morally apathetic. My patience or nearly non existant, and listening to people talk bores me. That doesnt mean i dont storytelling. Is that a double standard? Debate amongst yourselves.
The walk to the bathroom is a catwalk on unlevel ground pushing upwards at 462 mph.We’ve traveled 778 miles and just passed Chicago. Mike O’Maley is about to pull out his agrograg on some british bird who has mentioned having a boyfrind severl times. All i want to do is run up and down the asiles, maybe even start a goofy bs conversation with a random. I’ll just sit here. My imagination incredibly more interesting than whatever these dolts have to say about heading home to Los Angeles. I wish Dutch would open up his blinds.
One hour now until we land in LAX. The windows are open across the asile,. Through a hazy view is outh western Utah. The kid infront of that window has been ceaselessly working on some packet that includes graphs and fill in the blanks. Homework? I hope it’s othing too serious because he’s on his third or fourth bloody mary and sixth hotdog. I’ve decided it’s probably important. He’s had the light hining on s tray table since the western New York State line. Moving on.
Moving on. Something I cant really do. I could move on to an observation of another cabin mate, but its dark and all the seats come equiptmed with a small television that stares you down with hallowed curiosity.What I mean is that alot of the individualistic maneurisms disolve under glossy skinned stares. Sure, I turned it on, pleasantly suprised that all the content is free. From current Oscar picks to foreign film school snob picks, this airline has it all, right?. Television shows, games, and even music. I admit i havent bothered looking at the music options.yet because I’ve seen what Walmart sells and I cant bare to see how extended corporate music’s foothold on the web of consumer reality.
-
austinabbott reblogged this from jersh
-
jersh posted this
