Plane thoughts. Plain thoughts. The wretched stench of that homophone just caused me to throw up in my mouth a little bit. A great rule of thumb in narration is to always start off with some self deprecation. It shows others that you are able to be vulnerable and self-aware, without actually having to be either of those things. It creates an air of silliness, and within that blossoms the essence of trust.

I wiggle around in my plane seat, unable to settle into any single activity. I close my eyes. I am riddled with excitement and sleep shall not come without a brutal fight. With a full bladder and a middle seat, I am ill prepared to go into battle. Ready player one? It’s the ~ time fill game ~ starting in 3..2…Open a book. Change the music. I would love to follow the plot of this novel but I cannot stop imagining the impending scenarios that will unfold upon my arrival at my destination. I try to focus on the beautiful writings of Rachel Cusk, yet my mind wanders so far off the side of the ledge that my present tense no longer belongs in the verb class “reading”. I am just someone sitting in a plane seat, holding a book. I don’t know why I tried starting the game in expert mode with the whole “reading of the book” in the first place, as this is a redeye flight, the cabin lights are off, and fuck you Delta why doesn’t my personal reading light work when I push the button? Oops, I have summoned an attendant. He has confirmed that the light is broken. For those following, I ask the question: why do I continue to act as though I am going to read a book? I even go as far as trying to use my phone as a reading light. I move through the actions of this silly little production for nearly twenty minutes before I finally concede. In this game, the brain likes to win, and I let it have a go at just doing what it wants. 

Apparently on this flight, the brain wants to play ping pong with ridiculously delicious delusions. Final boss level is tricking the brain. “Let’s do something else”, I tell it, my inner dialogue becoming the in flight entertainment. Finally, I can now end my charade and put the book back into my bag. My neighbors keep peering at me, likely due to the fact that I have been loudly rummaging through my backpack for the entirety of the flight. Perhaps I am sifting my items loudly in an effort to capture the attention of my neighbors, both of whom dozed off with such ease. I have now found myself a new performative activity, writing. This would not normally be a public imposition, nor would it draw any attention if it was anyone else. But this is me, so obviously I don’t use the phone that is in my hand, nor do I take the 13’ MacBook Air out of my bag, I must use my 16” MacBook Pro that is stored in the overhead bin. I journal in the pages app of course. The light from the white background of the interface lightens not only my row, but also that of several others behind me. I am a beacon of the most annoying person you have ever traveled near and the worst part is that I am not even a high person, I am just plain annoying – just plane annoying. We have made our way back to self loathing – do you trust me now?

This has all been an extremely long winded way of trying to win the time fill game. Ah! saved by the bell – I write these final words as the wheels kiss the runway. My heart palpitations are not due to lack of sleep (2 hours the previous night), but the pure excitement pulsing through my veins. I sure wish that the pulsating excitement could make its way down and decompress my lower back. I become extremely aware that I was supposed to use the remaining time on my flight to freshen up, deodorant, perfume, the works. However, I am pleased that I was able to settle into an activity for the remainder of this flight. Actually, I am sure that the pleasure lies mostly with my sleeping neighbors.

I spoke much too soon with the whole bell, and the being saved by it business. I am back in time kill purgatory as the pilot is playing the game where the plane doesn’t yet have a gate to pull into so everyone looks wistfully out of the tiny windows at the distant airport whilst we sit stationary on the tarmac. I have leaned to love it here. There are no feelings of excitement or anticipation or anxiety – just little luggage train cars honking their beepy horns. It is quite idyllic and I hope I get to stay here forever. Game over, we have found a gate ladies and gentlemen – I will now rummage through my backpack to put away my laptop for the nth time.