1. I cry when I peel oranges on american airlines
we're on a road to nowhere
come on inside
takin' that ride to nowhere
we'll take that ride
feelin' ok this mornin'
and you know
we're on a road to paradise
here we go
here we go
==
i cry when i peel my orange on a plane.
american airlines flight 2997 from dallas fort worth to san francisco. seat 12a, window seat, the kind of window seat where the window is not to your immediate side but lined up with your seat. so the light from outside comes in from behind. beside me is just that scaly plastic inner wall of the main cabin. and ain't that crazy? i'm in cabin. all 300 of us here (eh i'm not doing the math), we're just sitting and being transported in a cabin, like a horizontal ski lift speeding through the clouds. meanwhile some people i've met never left the country, let alone their state.
i love flying. i hate flying. i'm jubilant, uplifted, excited. i'm terrified, anxious, tense. it's something i do regularly every year, about 3-4 times a year.
i landed in dallas fort worth airport four hours ago. (right now? i'm soaring above the clouds.) i placed my macbook in the chair pocket in front of me to work on my medical school applications during the 2 and a half hour flight. i've been working on it every day for the past two weeks. (i discovered the wonder of in-flight wifi last week and i'm not looking back.) but i didn't open my laptop on the plane ride from south bend, indiana to dallas. i read instead. "single on purpose," by john kim, aka the angry therapist. i kept reading and reading, engrossed. i read aloud to myself, too. (it helped that the large smelly man next to me cocked his head back and filled the cabin with the sound of his snoring. bears are awesome.)
i take a pause and look out the window. that static voice plays on the overhead intercom and we start to descend. there's nothing particularly special about what i see. plain roads on a highway, plain roofs of houses in towns, flat land, flat, wide buildings. lakes of grass and trees. cars. and i cry. my eyes soften, wet, the tears welling up. these are tears that aren't loud or violent like waves crashing onto a cliff. these are gentle, strong tears like a narrow stream. these are tears of homecoming. bliss. a quiet, peaceful, triumphant return.
i'm in a window seat, 15A, and the window is right next to me. the sky is serene blue. i can see 31 different clouds. each one is a different shape. some are bulky, some are a dense glob, some are a crumple like aluminum foil, some are small like a hershey's kiss. it hits me: i can be anyone i want. i am free to do anything i want with my life. when we land, it takes a solid 10 minutes to mount the plane to the dock (whatever it's called). there's a red mango next to gate B9. i am so delighted. i take a scoop of the original with mango and almonds. i'm so happy.
i'm still in a window seat, now 12A. we're going to land soon too. i don't know where i'm going. i might as well be going nowhere, the way i don't have a clue of what the future holds. if that's the case, then at least i'm on a road. a road to nowhere is still a road to somewhere.
wanduffle