There are the lines, the metal detectors and the men with guns, the walking down the terminal, the hard plastic seats meant to keep you awake and vigilant even though you’ve been waiting for hours. Then it’s more lines, the runway, the waiting, the monotonous rules and the inevitable take off…
I wasn’t meant to fly this way…in rapid descent in something metal and breathing in heavy, packaged air. I hate flying. No. Wait. Strike that. I hate airplanes. I was in a hot air balloon once and though I dropped my cookies at the first weightlessness, once in the air, I was light and the wind really brushed my hair and I felt free. The air was dense but it was real.
I also hate fast turn around flights. My body hardly adjusts before having to be subjected again. Thank god for the watch, the little piece of electrodes and plastic sending calming pulses into my wrist so I at least don’t get the sickness and the headaches anymore. Fly in, meet all day, sit on your ass some more, and fly out again. I am in another type of airplane stuck in the metal boundaries breathing more packaged air. As camp people you’d think we’d be better at this but I guess there’s only so many ways you can talk about contracts and budgets and mission statements and branding and web presence and operational management and it can’t be done when you are cruising down a zip line or paddling a canoe on the ripples of a river. Or can it?
On the bright side, I get to see a someone I adore.
I’m gone today and I’ll write again when I return.