Because you waited so long...

I'm posting twice in one night. Don't get use to this. 

So brief intro: this is from my journal that I kept in Europe. You won't be getting all of my journal entries, because I'm just selfish that way, but you are getting some (which means you get to read what I'm still chewing over... apparently when you stumble across big ideas they just follow you around). This journal entry has no big ideas... but I promise the next one will *shifty eyes*

I have the craziest thoughts when I fly. I suspect its because I am desperately trying to distract myself from the reality of my predicament: strapped into a metal body that really should not be able to fly, trying to reaffirm my beliefs in fairies (since all sane people believe fairies keep planes up in the air and allow them to fly *shifty eyes*). All while the plane shakes and shudders down the air strip. Just for clarification I am not a nervous flier, in fact when we’re in the air I have no trouble forgetting the fact we’re 40,000 feet(?) in the air, however it is in the in between time when the plane seems unsure of whether it should stay on the ground, where it had become so attached, or return to the air that is so familiar, that I find myself wishing for the invention of teleportation. Surely my body being torn into tiny parts would be more comfortable than this tortuous experience?

            Nevertheless, teleportation has not been invented yet which is why I am strapped into a seat that is firmly welded to a giant metal body that really should not be able to fly (look we’ve come full circle). It is while I’m breathing deep breaths, feeling the plane begin to jerk up before bouncing gently on the ground, that 2 thoughts cross my mind. The first I believe was a desperate attempt to reorient my thinking. I told myself, “The reason planes have so much “trouble” taking off is that they are beings designed to fly, to live in the air, and we do a disservice to them by chaining them to the ground.” This all seemed rational at the time, as if planes were living beings that had been harnessed by humans instead of just metal melded together with no life apart from the machine one humanity forced on it. My other thought was utterly trivial: I should have bought more gum before leaving.

            By the time I had finished both of these thoughts we had started our assent ( if I was a Torrey Nerd I would make a Dante joke, it will just have to suffice that I know where a Dante joke would go). My mindless fright turned to white hot terror as I recalled every roller coaster experience I ever had, and wished with all of my might that this experience was over. Eventually the plane leveled out. Eventually the white hot terror dissipated, leaving me vulnerable to the chilled air. Eventually movies and Stephen King came to entertain (ok so Stephen King himself didn’t come to entertain me, but his book Drawing of the Three did). But those first few minutes always make me reconsidering flying. I write this from the Frankfurt airport , as I am about to board another plane that will take me into Athens and begin a journey following the footsteps of that great poet Dante. May God open my eyes and allow me to see what there is to see.