it is midnight, pacific standard time, of july the thirtieth, and i have been practically airborne for about sixteen hours thus far. outside the little freezing porthole window of this plane, the sky is bright, clear, and sunny, and in the distance, the almost unimaginable scales of blue lie stacked in horizontal planes along the horizon, from the deep blue expanse of space above, to the green-blue wash of the sea below. i take a moment to pause, take off my glasses and rub my eyes, which are now dry and sore with the feeling that i had stayed up all night writing a paper and staring endlessly into a computer screen. i try taking a few deep breaths through my nose, but all i get is utterly congested sniffles that crackle everytime i have to inhale to keep my nose from running. this always happens to me on planes it seems - maybe it has something to do with how the air conditioning is always blowing, causing me to feel cold on skin and warm in body. then again, it might just be my allergies to the massive amounts of dust, mold, and human dander i imagine to be blowing around in this recycled artificial atmosphere.
at kansai international airport in osaka, where i am scheduled to land and layover another hour, the time is about four thirty in the afternoon. i know this because the continuous video projection on the screen before me gives me moment-to-moment updates on flight distances, temperatures, times, and current locations in japanese, thai, and english. as my body and mind ache, trying to figure out [and actually agree on] what time it really is, i can only sit back and stare braindead at my little cartoon plane trace out a white line over the pacific. while i sit in my chair under a lone spotlight lamp overhead, the airplane cabin is awash with indirect ambient lighting from depending on their new-ness, dull-lavender or dull-golden flourescent tubes along the wall. in this strange, muted, purgatory of time, no one seems to know what is going on except for the flight attendants, who bustle up and down the aisle, opening and closing little cabinets and getting their i-don't-know-whats. around me, most people are either sleeping or watching the strange in-flight entertainment which has just switched on, putting an end to the excruciatingly exciting distance, temperature, time, and location updates. now, from what i can gather, as i am without headphones and not particularily interested, cameron jones, whoever he is, appears to be talking about smooth jazz music. ugh, smooth jazz, i think to myself. my neighbor, who earlier, rambled on about his texan homeland and this trip to visit his thai fiancée, who he met in a massage-parlor-burlesque-house, is dead asleep, having passed on most of his meals like a coke mule.
all the porthole shades have been pulled, and the eeire almost noiseless environment creeps me out. aside from the clicks and small muffled slams from staff-cabinets and lavatory doors, i am overcome by the loud, enveloping sound of whitenoise, either caused by the aforementioned continuous ac, or the sound of the wind outside trying to tear this little plane apart. either way, it sounds as if i am completely surrounded by giant waterfalls, but i prefer real waterfalls so much more. seven more hours to bangkok.
at kansai international airport in osaka, where i am scheduled to land and layover another hour, the time is about four thirty in the afternoon. i know this because the continuous video projection on the screen before me gives me moment-to-moment updates on flight distances, temperatures, times, and current locations in japanese, thai, and english. as my body and mind ache, trying to figure out [and actually agree on] what time it really is, i can only sit back and stare braindead at my little cartoon plane trace out a white line over the pacific. while i sit in my chair under a lone spotlight lamp overhead, the airplane cabin is awash with indirect ambient lighting from depending on their new-ness, dull-lavender or dull-golden flourescent tubes along the wall. in this strange, muted, purgatory of time, no one seems to know what is going on except for the flight attendants, who bustle up and down the aisle, opening and closing little cabinets and getting their i-don't-know-whats. around me, most people are either sleeping or watching the strange in-flight entertainment which has just switched on, putting an end to the excruciatingly exciting distance, temperature, time, and location updates. now, from what i can gather, as i am without headphones and not particularily interested, cameron jones, whoever he is, appears to be talking about smooth jazz music. ugh, smooth jazz, i think to myself. my neighbor, who earlier, rambled on about his texan homeland and this trip to visit his thai fiancée, who he met in a massage-parlor-burlesque-house, is dead asleep, having passed on most of his meals like a coke mule.
all the porthole shades have been pulled, and the eeire almost noiseless environment creeps me out. aside from the clicks and small muffled slams from staff-cabinets and lavatory doors, i am overcome by the loud, enveloping sound of whitenoise, either caused by the aforementioned continuous ac, or the sound of the wind outside trying to tear this little plane apart. either way, it sounds as if i am completely surrounded by giant waterfalls, but i prefer real waterfalls so much more. seven more hours to bangkok.
somewhere over the pacific ocean.
