The theme for Day 4 of the #30DaysOfSummerWritingChallenge is ‘Leaving on a Jet Plane.’ Which immediately conjures the tight harmonies of Peter, Paul and Mary and having your bags packed. Now, I will start with a little gratitude prayer for aviation, because without it I would not live where I live today. It was a plane that took me to England in 1980 and that made all the differance to my life path. However, aviation post-9/11 is a purgatorial experience. I am one of those people who is compulsively early. I get ants in my pants – part anxiety and part excitement at the prospect of going off on some sojourn. I would just rather be taking a bus, train, car or ferry to get there.
It’s not so much the flying (though lapsed Catholic that I am I still cross myself on take off and say a prayer to St. Brigit; I try and do this surreptitiously because the real flying phobes get freaked out by it). What really bugs me is the Departure Lounge experience. I don’t really like crowds; this is getting more pronounced as I age. Departure Lounges are very people-y places. Also, I hate the lighting. My distaste for Departure Lounges solidified after a four day delay back in 2007, which meant I spent way too much time in the JFK Departure Lounge, some of it trying to sleep with my head pillowed by a backpack. Not to be repeated, that experience. (Note to self: never fly transatlantic when Mercury is retrograde. What can go wrong, will go wrong. And it did go wrong.)
It's the point of embarkation,
but there is so much hanging around.
Neither here, nor really there yet.
Not truly earth bound, boarding pass
in sweaty palm. Another sort
of holding pattern. Where's my gate?
Will there be teleportation
without security, duty-free
mandatory someday soon? Please!
New worlds beckon, lives yet unlived.
This limbo is not my kind of
liminal with burger franchises
instead of 'Thunderbirds are go!'
and Captain Scarlet my pilot.
Copyright © 2019 Bee Smith. All rights reserved.