I am on another leg of my third, round trip, transcontinental flight in two weeks. Finally, a rare treat to break the monotony: a small plane powered by dual propellers.
The constant flying has left me with a headache that feels like the pins driving into my brain will surely split my skull, all my thoughts and essence tumbling out. It’s causing other upset, with bile and nausea fighting for supremacy in a contest to make me as uncomfortable as possible.
But for a moment, watching the little propellers do their trick, rising me up in the air, a state of excitement overcame me. Surely, a hundred years ago, the Wright brothers felt this giddy, thinking they had the ticket to the sky. I have double vision: smelling the stale airplane air that I’m so familiar with doesn’t jive with the feeling of ancient excitement.
And while I feel suspended in air, not moving, I am apparently making progress. Suddenly, we are ready to land, the amazonian stewardess prepares us for it. We hit a bit of turbulence that leaves me breathless and suddenly, we are landing. From motionlessness to a sudden jolt and quick breaking and I am at my destination.
I say goodbye to the grasping humanity far below me, and reach myself, for a clean hotel with a warm bed.psyche