Bill's Conversational Musings

I Should Have Brought a Book

Pano shot of the plane

The following is a writing exercise. I was composing based on everyday life and adding metaphors to enhance the reading. Enjoy

I should have brought a book. I thought I was going to read this e-book on project management and how it links to music. But it just resonates of work. I trudged through two pages before I had to put it away.

On flights, they never tell you to "Please stow your book." I usually sleep on flights anyway. I have decided to journal a bit. This could be the start of my "A Moveable Feast". Angela is next to me. Cynthia and Scott are in the row across the aisle. We have come to a stop in Phoenix. It's noisy in the back of the plane. Now that we are at the gate there is a dead calm. There is an electronic beep and everyone reaches for their phones. Some people disembark the plane. Others remain in their seats as the plane continues to San Francisco.

While the plane is empty we jockey for better seats. The EXIT rows on Southwest planes are about as close as you can get to first class.

Angela is anxious about the space in front of her. Will there be enough room underneath the seat? Will there not?

The funny thing is I suggest to Scott that we should move up. "Naw," he responded. It doesn't serve any benefit is the reasoning. He then posts some silly photos on Facebook of him skipping in the aisle. It's the suggestion of another online friend who replies, "Get that exit row!" "Great idea!" Scott replies.

What can you do?

The plane roars to life. The engines gasp for air and we begin to taxi forward. The cabin is full of chatter as people ignore the safety brief.

As we sit in the exit row the flight attendant asks if we are OK to assist in case of an emergency. We all agree and I say "We have been deputized." To which the man in the row adjacent across the aisle turns and gives me a scowl. Responsibility must not set well with him.

The interesting things about takeoffs are the only part of your body that tells you-you are moving is your ass. The plane rockets down the runway and the person I thank is the one who tightened the bolts on my chair.

Scott mentions that he looked into international flights. "Boy, they are expensive," he says. "Where did you look at going?" I ask. "Easter Island. It's not cheap." Perhaps I should have suggested something more local like Guam.

I mention to Angela that I do not have anyone lined up to take us to dinner and treat us to smoked mackerel and white port. (Thank you, Fay, for setting such a high bar.)

I look around and see people with so many electronics with them. Just sitting here I spot two iPhones, one Kindle, a laptop, a GoPro, a smart watch. Let's do some future predictions and say in ten years people will add VR goggles to the inventory. I imagine a whole flight where people are immersed in their own VR worlds.

The flight attendant takes our drink order. I get coffee. He is the only other one using pen and paper.

The pressure in my water bottle began to force the water out through the silicon mouthpiece. 32,000 feet and I had to equalize the pressure because the bottle was squirting all over the seat pocket.

As the plane does its belly dance over the Rocky Mountains, they bring pretzels and peanuts. Not exactly the best pairing with my coffee but then again the coffee is over roasted.

Salt and coffee. I still cannot make that combination work. It's the gasoline and water of flavor profiles. Sweet and coffee: great. Sweet and salty: awesome. Salt and coffee: Blech. St. Arbucks tried with the salted caramel but it failed.