Just starting off, the plane seems to be stumbling around in the sky, something I can hear the intercom voice calmly referring to as "turbulence." The air conditioning vents above in the body of the plane are blasting cold air at us, just about as thickly as they're able. An air of general quiet exists in the rows of people stacked in the plane's refrigerated body like eggs in cartons, and I am an egg too, and I know it. How easily we crack. How oddly calm we all are. I love being shipped, but the thought does occur to me that someone could drop us all, and then where would we be?
There is a Matt Damon movie on, "with Elle Fanning." I'm huddled into my fake leather jacket, and the woman next to me, huddled in her blue jean one, suddenly rises and steps into her seat, standing to reach the air vents above us. "You want yours...?" she asks me, after screwing hers shut, and I quickly comprehend. "Oh. No, no. Yes please close it - thank you."
There's a four year old girl in front of me on her dad's lap, a pacifier hanging from the side of her mouth, and she gives it a good chew every couple seconds. I am annoyed by her and her ridiculous pacifier, for no apparent reason, until she stands, leans over the back of her seat in front of me, and grins. Fine, honey, melt my heart.
But then I look to my left and see another child (a boy of three maybe?) standing on his parent's lap, sucking a pacifier as well. My suppressed annoyance immediately returns. Another baby for me to watch adults pacify. I am not sure why this bothers me.
I feel I ought to be writing more about my destination, my companions, etc, but somehow the destination still does not exist to me. People ask me if I am excited, but I am not, so I have to twist the truth to answer correctly. It's not like I am unexcited, though. I am glad, surely. If this opportunity suddenly disappeared and I couldn't go, I'm sure I would be really disappointed.
I ought to sleep. It's 11:35 pm in Zurich now, our eventual destination. Our plane shouldn't land til 7 am ish.
Good night, sweet world. I know you're not actually sweet - you're quite rough - but I'll call you sweet anyway.
