I gotta tell you, this thing I occasionally do really comes in handy. I have just begun a trip from Kauai to Weehawken, NJ to visit family, my son, daughter-in-law and grandson. He is the one responsible for my taking up the word crafting business.
The quick version of that story is I decided the only way to out fox time and make certain I am around to answer questions he might have about my life was to provide a written record for him. It felt like a kind of insurance policy to me. I’ll get back to that in just a second, because it is why I am squeezed into a plane at the moment.
I had no idea that what began as kind of project would grow into a way of life for me. Why the hell else would I be on a plane, not watching a movie, not listening to music or anything else, to take my mind off the sludge-like passage of time, stuff into this winged, metal can?
OK, all that is partially true. I made no provision over what to do with my brain during the flight(s). This particular plane is equipped with nothing, no screen, no music, nada. I don’t even have compatible headphones for my computer. My ear buds, which are good for the iPhone, do not, I repeat, do not fit into my laptop. I could pay for service, which pisses me off in the first place, but I couldn’t listen anyway.
Once the reality of the external, stimulus void hit me hard, desperation took charge and I reached for the in flight magazine. I am sure most of you have read these glossy jewels, filled with ads for plastic surgery, executive dating, contraptions you can’t live without, gaudy jewelry and luxury living of all kinds. There are sanitized messages from the airline. The editorial feature these saccharin pieces, oozing positivity and strung, together superlatives about places, people and things.
I don’t sleep in the air, because it is my job to make sure we all get to where are going safely. I didn’t bring a book, because I don’t read them. In short, I am screwed for at least 5 1/2 hours on flight number one. I also don’t want to get ahead myself and think about possible options for the next leg.
What the hell am I going to do now? Then, it hit me. I’ll write, about what, who knows? I always say that the three strangest environments are airports, hospitals and laundromats. They are worlds unto themselves, little universes with activities 100% peculiar to each. Since the introduction and insertion of TSA into our travel lives, it is truly otherworldly.
The last time I flew, I brought my water-filled flask with me. On the other side of the TSA exploration, I was told I either had to drink the contents or leave it behind. Of course, there was no provision to simply empty it, because that would have been too easy. I love not being allowed to carry on more than four ounces of toothpaste or any liquid, etc. Why was that number selected?
Sorry, my mind wanders when it is forced to endure hours of thought limbo. I find it impossible to forget where I am. Maybe it’s the drone of the engines or being in an enclosed space with several hundred others. It’s like being in the laundromat and waiting for the timer on the dryer to finally flash “00”. I can’t free my mind to leave the damn plane.
I still have a few hours left on this flight and the word counter says I am a good, half-way to the end of whatever this is. I am going to stop now, put the computer away, fold my arms across my chest, close my eyes and think of nothing, because I can’t do anything else…………………………………………………………….
Well, I made it on to flight number two. I won’t bother sharing with you how exciting it was during my several hours in LAX. I guess the most curious thing was seeing several families of Hasidic Jews. No, I am not about to go off on a small minded, antisemitic rant, because I am one of them. I don’t really care about people’s personal choices. Although, I am kind of curious what they were all doing in LA. Their lives do seem terribly complicated to me, because there are rules governing most every facet of their lives. OK, I can’t stand the way women are treated. I’ll stop here, before I get myself into trouble with the higher authorities, especially as I am about to board a plane, flying a bit too close to heaven.
I am now about eight hours in to my epic journey east. This flight feels remarkably similar to the one before and that’s one of the things about flying. I am not going to bother counting the number of times I have made this trip. However, what dawned on me after the end of the pandemic lock down is that I have been going back and forth to NJ, not having gone anywhere else since my 2017 trip to Tuscany.
You know, when you get to be my age, time and choices begin to shrink. I think you can become a bit more realistic, a touch more pragmatic when it comes to plans. I think, once I return to my island, I’m gonna start thinking about where to go. If you asked me right now, I think I’d have to go with New Zealand, but we’ll see.
The truth is, I don’t have anything new to say about this leg of the ride. This plane looks remarkably similar to the first one and my head space is pretty, damn close as well. Although, the physical and mental discomfort feel a bit more intense and who wants to hear me bitch about it?
I am a lousy liar. After I finished writing about the ride from Kauai to LA and put the computer away for the second light and saved it, thinking I might just delete it and bag finishing the story.
After the paragraph with all the periods, I just shut down the machine and my brain.
The moment of truth; I knew I was facing a seven hour layover in Seattle on my return home and I planned on writing when I eventually got there. What the hell else was I going to do?
I just reopened this story on the return flight, after having spent five days with family. It didn’t seem right to just delete what I had written, a creative sacrilege to me. So, I have done a really shitty job of finishing off this exercise.
From initially being concerned about having more to write, this word patchwork is now dangerously long, trying your patience, as you wonder where we are going. Well, we’re really not going anywhere special and I apologize.
I am going to stop right now. I still have few more hours left on this third flight of my four-plane party in the sky. By the time I got on that second flight, nearly a week ago, my brain was already mush. Just as I was motivated on that first flight to pass some time on the page, I am in the same mental space on this one. I do fear for my mental well being, after seven hours of killing time until my final flight home.
Thank you for keeping me company. I owe you. I gotta go now, because I don’t want to keep boredom waiting.
Part two is coming soon to a gizmo near you.