...doesn't refer to lounge seats. Or maybe it's the unnaturally slow pace of the seconds-hand on these analog clocks, clogged by too many minutes awaiting their turn to creep past. Each grudging circuit on the clock face hardens the padding in this chair, a bit more. The stuffing left the spongy stage long ago, has bid farewell to the hardwood phase and is sprinting to morph into granite.
Because LATER has arrived (minute-hands have relaxed into their normal rate of spinning to mark time's passing). And in the plane's cabin there's tiny exhilaration realizing that the countdown affixed to the footer of my website has finally arrived at its long-ago programmed destination: zero.
We're in the air and approaching the Minneapolis/St Paul Airport—I am pretty sure: at least that's what is written on my boarding pass. The scenery from up here is nonexistent. It's as though our primary teacher was only issued cloud shapes to populate her flannel board this afternoon. Right now it's an improbable CHENILLE pattern down there.
But we did get away and are high-tailing it towards Venice... Trivia question: anybody recall that airline ad from so many decades ago—was it Continental? "We really move our tail for you!"
Comments