May 16 Flight Logs

Midnight, maybe:
At certain hours, the airport is a nice place to be. The red-eye hours, when the airport the walls are lined with the sleeping bodies of layover passengers, and the restaurants and stores are closed and there are no distractions, just endless hallways and shitty wi-fi. And I could press a palm to the window and see the lights from the planes and the lights from the ramp workers and the lights on the runway floating around like fallen stars, and I could wander with my backpack like a weighted vest and walk up the escalator and walk down the escalator and walk up the escalator and call that a workout. And then I would sit and read a book, and maybe write, but mostly scroll on my phone and think about the long flight ahead and how cold the plane would be.

Recently I’ve thought about “downgrading” my lifestyle and live like a starving artist. Which I think is connected to my fondness of empty airports. If I were to live like a starving, I would live in a plain, enclosed space, a studio, and it would be dark and have a white refrigerator and outdated countertops and bad wi-fi. But I would be happy, because it would be like a cocooon where I could sit and be creative, far away from earthly distractions. What do I desire: an achromatic enclosed space brimming with nothingness, where I can just be, no notifcations, no obligations, just a big canvas for my thoughts.

8:43 AM:
I was on my phone at the airport and figured I needed to look up and observe the world. There was a man in a wheelchair waiting in line to board a flight to San Diego. Suddenly, a woman pushed him away - “We’re not going to San Diego”, she said. He seemed to be in a daze, staring at nothing in particulary as he was wheeled away.

For breakfast I had an Olli pepperoni snack. I forgot to pick up a snack from the store yesterday so I had to pay double price, just my luck. Reminder: Pack a snack for the return flight!! At the store there was a rack of those Phoenix tourist sweatshirts, 2/$35. One day I’ll buy one, but it will be from a far and foreign land, like Wyoming.

10:03 AM:
In line, I tried to observe. Who was best dressed? I guess the airport is not the spot for the latest fashions (especially at Sky Harbor). I saw a lady in a flowy black and white midi dress and chunky heels. Another woman with pink leggings and a pink jacket (atheleisure?). A mother wearing slim fit Adidas pants and a black tank top, with two young girls that looked like miniture versions of her. A Southwest employee with legs and arms covered in colorful tattoos. I wanted to compliment her but I got nervous.

As for me I had on my usual color palette - a striped gray shirt and gray skinny jeans. I was also wearing a mask, which I like to do at the airport for the anonymous effect. And to help damper the smells, which can get quite odorous - the change in elevation does strange things to the bowel movements of passengers, which emerges most strongly in the bathroom…

I checked in very late and was put in the last boarding group, middle seat. Lovely. My bag is at 19F while my seat was at 9B. I took a picture so I wouldn’t forgot. It’s a full flight. Everyone is making that face like they were dragged into the plane. I guess traveling is that draining, which I can certainly agree with. It got so cramped when I put my bag up and had to go back to my seat, so many bodies and roller bags to push through, I almost passed out.

They say take off and landing are the msot dangerous parts of a flight. When I first starting flying, I liked to stare out the window as the plane lifted into the air, it was like a miraculous event. Now I just slump over in my seat and wait for it to be over, it all makes me sick with paranoia.

I was writing in this journal I got from Ross and I tried to peel the price tag off, but it came off in pieces and ended up looking worse. Did you know you’re required to sit in your assigned seat on the plane because if it crashes, that is how they will identify the pieces left of you? None of this is a metaphor.

A plane is just a white noise sleep machine. I fell alseep during take off but woke up 10 minutes later because I don’t want to miss the pretzels and I want a diet coke.

I always get so cold on these flights… thought the long sleeve shirt would be enough, but no…

11:14 AM:
Getting to that part of the flight where I feel butthurt. No, literally, the cramps. Will get up soon. Got my Southwest snacks - pretzels AND graham crackers - yum! One time my mom requested I order her a big bag of the pretzels from Amazon, and I understand why.

My cousin is graduating high school today, but wasn’t she just a baby???

Studying for this hopeless exam while my body turns into a brick. Window seat woman is knocked out, must be nice. Aisle seat lady has a wandering eye, she keeps glancing at my journal. I suppose I look scholarly and wise when I am scribbling away, but I’m really just writing gibberish.

Don’t want to study. What’s [redacted] up to? Probably sleeping.

Now, Dear Reader, you may be wondering: who is [redacted]? While I am trapped on this plane, I will explain to the best of my ability: [redacted] is not one person, but a variable representation of the endless possibilities of people, whose identifies change from moment to moment. Which is to say, if the circumstances of my life are never static, then [redacted] represents constantly mutating individual(s). Dear Reader, if you come across a blog post and wonder - am I [redacted]? - then yes, you are, and no, you are not. Just as Erika’s Husband represents a (thus far) intagible, ever-transforming figure of my imagination, a dual representation of myself and some future lover, [redacted] represents the multitude of transients sewed into the threads of my life. On that note, some thoughts on [redacted]:

• Why is [redacted] bothering me now?
• [Redacted] is quite appealing to me - if I close my eyes and think hard enough, can [redacted] enter my dreams (just for a night?)
• The particulars of [redacted] shouldn’t bother me, and yet….

Dear Reader, I must inform you: sometimes [redacted] is nothing but a cheap trick, a ploy to garner your interest and trigger a reaction. Whatever stirs in you when I mention [redacted] - curiosity, worry, joy, annoyance, these are all good things, evidence that my writing has had an emotion effect, which at the end of the day, is the goal.

12:15 PM:
Potty break! Legs are stretched. This is the home stretch!

12:35 PM:
According to Wikipedia, Containerization (as defined within software engineering) is “is operating-system-level virtualization or application-level virtualization over multiple resources so that software applications can run in isolated user spaces called containers.” If I could containerize myself and go anywhere, would that fulfill my IRL desires?

3:00 PM (Central Daylight Time):
Saw a pilot that was so tall, his head almost scraped the ceiling (to be fair, the ceilings were quite low). Anyway, I don’t know what he’s doing here - the Bulls need him! Get on the court!

Traffic is bad so my Dad will be late to pick me up. Midway is a simple airport, I like it. Outside, it is cloudy and humid. Hello Chicago!