#01: The Flight.

I’m there, at the balcony, looking down. People are swarming about, doing their thing, minding their business - like ants. Each person convinced that their journey, destination, their plans are the most important thing in the world, paying no regard to the others they push past obligating a similar notion. Everyone has the same agenda, get there early, get seated early, stay safe, stay together. The way they move about each other, avoiding contact, carving their paths out almost twenty feet ahead of their physical being it seems. It’s mesmerizing almost, to watch, all these people, knowing I’m just one observing another. I am them, they are me. We are the same thing, a body of people with the same wants and needs but separately going about our own business. I have to tear my eyes away before I get too caught up, before I go down a murky path filled with questions and whys - asking myself is this really it? Is this life?


    That was six hours ago now. I’ve moved on a lot since then. Through duty free, past the girls caked in make up trying to sell me their pretty things, trying to convince me with their smiles that if I buy their product, I shan’t ever want again. Trying to convince me that it’s their product that I’m looking for, it’s their product that will change my life. No, it’s not. Life is more than skin deep, I don’t care for smelling like Madonna, I don’t care for DKNY handbags. I want realism. Airports are contradictions of realism. These girls pretending that this is all you need for happiness, but the frowns at customs searching my person are telling me different, they tell me I look like a bomber, that my bottle of water is clearly about to blow up. That’s real. Threat, death, it could happen. It could happen to anyone - me, you, the person I shared an elevator with when I left the car park. That’s why those frowns are there, because this happens. Paradoxically standing next to each other, trying to win people over with fake smiles and furrowed brows. So far so good, no threat, no death. A numb foot and cramped knees but I’m still all in one piece. I look to my right and there are strangers, for I am on this trip all alone. A baby is crying, I’m not tolerant enough to bear it so my music gets turned up - reflex. My left is just a sea of cloud, stretching to the horizon, stretching to beyond the ability of my sight, fading to a haze of white and blue, blue and white. The sky is crystal clear above, a blanket of white below. It’s almost like snow, the way it just covers everything, no exceptions. I assume we’re still above the ocean, I couldn’t tell you which, I’m no geographer, perhaps the Pacific? North Atlantic? I’d say my guess is as good as yours but it’s probably not. If we made an emergency stop now, I’d be swimming to safety. I know I’m going west, and that’s where the sun sets, or am I wrong on that too? I don’t know, just have to hope an emergency stop isn’t necessary I guess. Would make quite the story though, especially if I survived.


    We should have three hours until we land but our takeoff was delayed an hour so I guess it looks like we’re not on schedule anymore. I don’t know what I’m going to do for another four hours. Read, watch a movie. I don’t want to sleep because I don’t want to mess up my body clock, I’m sure they won’t mind if I have an early night and a lay in tomorrow morning. Dreading getting off the plane, customs, immigration and such. Especially as I’m staying for such a long time, I feel like they’ll ask me an abundance of questions, yes I know the address of where I’ll be staying, no I shan’t be staying anywhere else, the reason of visit is purely… what’s the word I’m looking for? It’s a posh word for fun but I can’t quite place it, it means personal too - a word for personal fun. But you know what I mean, that’s my reason for visit. No, I don’t have a contact number, yes, not getting it was a stupid idea but I can’t change that now. I hope they don’t keep me too long. I hope they don’t get a angsty about all the food in my checked luggage. So much to think about. I just want to arrive already and eat. I am honestly so hungry, today I’ve eaten a croissant, half a pack of munchies, a pack of wine gums and a pack of M+Ms, then the dinner British Airways was kind enough to provide. It was tasty, some pasta dish, it was a smaller portion than a portion you get from a Chinese so I’m still starving. I’m hoping they’ll feed us again soon because I have no other food with me. Bit stupid I guess but my bags were already so heavy on my shoulders I didn’t want to put anything more in them. I feel like I’ll scar, I’ll have permanent marks from where the straps burnt into my skin as I walked. Every step cut into my shoulders, my calves, my feet. My body was screaming, it seemed like I’d never get to the plane. I departed from gate C62. Seriously. I mean, when has anyone, ever, departed from gate A1? Does that gate even exist?! I feel like they just start making gates up somewhere after 20, A20+, B20+, C20+. Airports are so much hassle. So much to worry about all the time.


    I wish I had something a bit more interesting to say but I don’t. I just need to write, to give my brain something active to do. Reading, watching movies, listening to music is too passive. I need my brain to actually think. I want to talk to someone but that’s not really acceptable behaviour on a plane… striking up conversation with passengers you don’t know is likely to arouse suspicion, especially if they’re unwilling participants in said conversation. I feel like I really need a breeze on my face, the air on this plane is too still, stuffy, second hand. I can’t help but yawn, I didn’t sleep until around 3am last night, my alarm woke me up around 7, it’s now almost 10pm, but it’s not. My iPod is telling me it’s currently 5:05 in New York city, funny that. 505 by the Arctic Monkeys is currently playing. Because of that song, I see that number and can’t say five hundred and five, instead I say five oh five. It’s just one of those things, I think I listen to them too much. It that possible? To listen to a song too much? I don’t know.
  
 If I’m heading West and my window is facing South, That means the North/East side has the sun? Or is that entirely wrong. I don’t know. I just want to think about something smart to keep my brain alive, I don’t want to be practically brain dead when I land, that would be ridiculous. Obviously that isn’t going to happen but my own conscious is starting to get a bit boring now, I mean, I haven’t really spoken-spoken to anyone since about 3pm, which was 7 hours ago. I mean, I’ve spoken to the Steward(esse)s and briefly the lady besides me but nothing in depth, nothing too articulate really. I have 27% of my battery left. I wonder how long that will last me. I wish I’d been on the ball this morning and charged it completely so I had a bit more time. Oh well, shoulda, coulda, woulda is always so much easier in the past tense. I’ve been noticing that recently. Starting to make a point of doing things before it’s too late. Before things have changed too much or moved on. It’s so easy to lay the burden on the promise of tomorrow but tomorrow isn’t always going to be there. Sooner or later, you’re going to wish you’d done it yesterday. What if you wanted to tell someone something but kept delaying it but, and I know this is a bit extreme, they died? What then? They would have died without ever knowing what it was you wanted to say, knowing how they felt or thought about it. It’s the same egotistically. What if you wanted to quit your job and go travelling or get that haircut you’ve always wanted but never dared to or just have a one night stand to see how it feels… and then something happens so you can’t, perhaps you have an accident and from then on are entirely dependent on another? What if something happened that would from then on stop you from doing all these things you give to tomorrow, or, more specifically, the idea of tomorrow. Because that’s what tomorrow is. It’s not a promise. It’s an idea. It does not always exist. It will not always exist. People make this mistake too often for others not to realise what a shame it is when it happens, I know I’m not going to mistake they did, but what about you? Are you going to make that mistake too? Stop believing in tomorrow. It will only exist if you let it.