Friday, July 25th
Leg 1: Fort Lauderdale, FL to Chicago, IL
I’m once again among the clouds somewhere between Fort Lauderdale and Chicago on the first leg of my return journey to Kansas City with only myself and fellow passengers for amusement. I’ve been reading Wired (the printed version!) and processing the past two days.
I’m traveling with 3 coworkers, 2 officers of the company and one account executive (all male) but I feel as though I’m traveling alone because I’m sitting alone, not part of the group- the AE in the group was sitting in my row, but in order to accommodate 2 small children and their mother [who arrived late to the flight and missed family boarding (which would have allowed them the comfort of their own row of seats.)] he moved to the row with the rest of the group. Someone near me, probably one of the kids, has gas. Honestly, these small slightly farty/smelly kids are better row-mates than many on a jam-packed flight. They aren’t snoring, hogging an armrest, lolling over into my seat and invading my bubble, overly chatty with me, loud or obnoxious. I’ve been though it all. On a trip home from Oregon, where my brother and I had visited my dad, not only did our flight leave early- without us – but I ended up some old man’s pillow in the first row of the airplane. Let me just tell you this, there is one spot in an airplane that I hate sitting- rows 1-5. I feel exposed. Now add in smelly, old snory man and you have a delightful journey.
I want to touch the cottony sheets- how wonderful it would be to lie down on a bed of springy clouds!
If I was sitting with my coworkers, would I feel as open to this scribbling exercise? Would they question my pennings? My identity with those people is not as Tremendous Blondette, the girl who pumps her heart and mind into online text. Instead, I’m the Interactive Department’s resident Lifer. I’m the girl who stayed.
A song is stuck in my head during this flight. “It’s a long trip alone… so maybe I could rest beneath your smile” When it came from my bosses speakers this morning I simultaneously wanted to turn it off and turn it up. Why the song affected me with such intensity, I don’t really know, but it felt like I’d just been ripped in half. I was surprised by my visceral reaction.
I’m pondering this song when the flight attendants tell us to put our seatbacks and traytables in the upright and locked position. The kids next to me are getting antsy, leaning to better catch a glimpse of Chicago and chanting “I can’t wait to see Daddy!”
I’ll be home soon–I just have to wait here and let more people on, then it’s on to Kansas City. The flight attendant announces there’s been a change–those continuing to KC and Dallas must switch planes. Guess I’ll be seeing the inside of Midway afterall!
Leg 2: Chicago, IL to Kansas City, MO
Being that we were on board a very full flight there was only a smattering of open seats. I was lucky enough that one of them was between me and the gent in the aisle seat of my row. My coworkers were not so lucky. They all enjoyed the confinement that comes with sitting next to strangers. Only, my boss is one of those freakishly outgoing people. He could make conversation with a broom. He and the agency director ended up with a lovely young woman between them. She also seemed to be the extroverted chatty sort, and was easily engaged in conversation with them for the length of the flight. They were on the other side of the aisle and one row back, so I could at times catch snippets of their dialogue. The bosses asked her questions about herself (best way to get someone to open up) and they recounted their crazy tales of Fort Lauderdale to her. (let’s just say these folks know how to keep from being bored and have a talent for meeting interesting people.)
Descending into Kansas City International Airport I became focused on the cloud formations to my right (I had the window seat–yay pre-boarding because you made us change planes then made us wait around long enough that I really could have made that pitstop I was told to make between A Gates and B Gates.) I saw a cloud that looked like a reclined woman in a bathtub ala Henry Moore, a gargoyle face, and then, the lights of Kansas City.
The notebook where I scribbled my thoughts is uncannily enough labeled with the words “TOP FLIGHT.” You know, flying isn’t so bad after all.
Who’s going to put the guy next to me in the grateful dead t-shirt and fuck you hat in his full and upright position, who’s on his fifth little bottle of Kahlua, I might add?”
Melly Traybables.