journey journal: lisbon (i)

begin with departure

The Russian chap next to me on the plane spent the last hour of the flight spinning the interactive globe. Flight map: a flight’s worth of entertainment for men. Murmansk, then Bilbao. Bangkok and Labrador. His girlfriend’s head lolled in slumber through the minor turbulence. We three were in the exit aisle. Were we willing to help in the event of an emergency? Yez, she said. Yesh, he said. Yes, I said. One by one, those were the rules. Turn that great handle and get that door open. After everyone’s out, step through it. Our pixeled form eclipsed Lisbon. A strip of sunrise awakened on the horizon. We began to descend.

Remember when you used to fly and a lady would do a dance for everyone before taking off. Now it’s just Richard Branson, or “The Voice of The New York Giants” piped in from the studio in the clouds. This flight had nothing, not even Branson to ease my nausea.