Airplane Confessions

I don’t like flying, but will do it in the interest of getting there faster. Looking down into the fluffy white clouds, knowing the earth is thousands of feet below, I can’t help but contemplate my mortality. Let’s face it even my morality. It is easy to be cynical and maudlin on terra firma not so much in the air in what amounts to a bus in the sky. I pray for more opportunities to continue to parent my children and grow old with the first and only love of my youth.

I feel that obnoxious itchy-popping-under-water ear sensation. I contemplate the narrow cabin and seats. I curse the extra cushion that has managed to creep back from two months of unemployment and a general feeling of malaise.

I wonder about my future. Am I destined to be tethered to the mundane concerns of the day to day, surrounded only by the familiar of my own creation? Then I just wonder. Why did I buy that overpriced tasteless airport coffee? Whoever farted needs to become friends with “Colonix.”

This trip didn’t seem like it was going to happen but I am on my way. So I lean back in my seat and wait for what lies ahead.