the view outside my window looks cold and wet as heavy clumps of snowflakes near the ground and immediately melt into a light rain. icy snow clings to the edges of my oval port-hole framing an airplane wing powdered white with a light dusting of winter as i sit in the drowning hiss of piped-in air and the on-and-off chatter between the two women behind me, who seem to find endless inspiration to banter on about dry skin, lotions, and soaps. as we wait for the plane to get de-iced, i can only close my eyes and mindlessly drift off into nothingness. i went to the doctor and he said "your skin's so dry... you should use dove." with an awkward popping crunch all along the roof of the plane, coupled with the utter steamy-smokiness that floods the view outside, it was clear the defrosters had arrived. ...but i've been using dove for years! as a man in a cherry picker hosed down the plane with a warm foamy concoction, it became hard to ignore the strange odor that began to pervade the cabin, no doubt coming from the defrost-cocktail and seeping in with the undying hiss above. the smell, a mix of pharmaceutical detergent and alcohol it seemed, was fresh, yet incredibly irritating, in the same way an all-too-clean restroom can smell incredibly irritating at times - stabbing at my nose and brain.
as the cherry picker outside pulled away and the plane skirted along desolate runways and snow-dusted lawns, we prepared for take-off. charging against the snow and against gravity, we climb skyward to the ratchet sound of propeller blades emanating from the very non-propeller turbine outside. blanketed in white-out conditions, looking as if a sheet had been pulled over my window, we seemingly navigate blindly through the color-purgatory, where even i have difficulty telling up from down. half expecting to see heaven itself silhouetted in the abysmal void, i imagine this is what that white light really looks like. breaking through the upper layers of cloud cover however, we emerge into the golden glow of sunshine, leaving the clouds below us, now just a thick vast sea of cottony dunes rolling into the distant horizon, looking even more heavenly than ever before.
somewhere over the midwest.
as the cherry picker outside pulled away and the plane skirted along desolate runways and snow-dusted lawns, we prepared for take-off. charging against the snow and against gravity, we climb skyward to the ratchet sound of propeller blades emanating from the very non-propeller turbine outside. blanketed in white-out conditions, looking as if a sheet had been pulled over my window, we seemingly navigate blindly through the color-purgatory, where even i have difficulty telling up from down. half expecting to see heaven itself silhouetted in the abysmal void, i imagine this is what that white light really looks like. breaking through the upper layers of cloud cover however, we emerge into the golden glow of sunshine, leaving the clouds below us, now just a thick vast sea of cottony dunes rolling into the distant horizon, looking even more heavenly than ever before.
somewhere over the midwest.
