Monday, December 01, 2008

Written on the very late plane last night . . .

This is the worst turbulence I have ever been in. It’s a little like traveling in a bus over a poorly-paved road except the potholes are impossibly deep. Anne Lamott writes a charming story about how turbulence brought her seatmates together to form an impromptu community but although the guy next to me is clearly frightened from the looks of his shaky, grasping-nothing hands (just like me), I feel a little weird about talking to him. He’s turned off his iPod and taken out his headphones. Maybe I should, too, but my stomach is queasy, my shoulders are tightening and it’s too hot. I want to watch a DVD and escape but the computer got about 4 inches of air off the seat-back table. I am glad that I texted my boyfriend I loved him and that I checked in with my dad before the flight. I’m a morbid kid.

As usual, once I acknowledged that I didn’t want to do something uncomfortable, I went ahead and did it. I made a little chit-chat observation about how everyone else started talking, he responded a little, said, “That was wild,” I used my “impossibly deep potholes” line and he put his headphones back in.

Mission accomplished.

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