The mile why club
Seat 12 B...Where confidence met biology.
Middle seat. Seat belt light came on somewhere over Texas and my stomach changed the flight plan.
All started with that bad idea wrapped in a tortilla called an Airport Burrito.
Wolfed like a Viking at Gate 17C.
Seemingly in absence of memory; teteportation landed me wedged between a snoring business man and a gradma working a crossword with a pen.
Intestinal cabin pressure built and I told myself " the lie"....just butterflies is all.
The snoring mans shoulder blocked escape as granny pursed her lips an wrote 9 letter words like a federal judge....
Tur...bulance hit and so did my Delta foxhole prayer.
The quiet option chose itself as light seaped from darkness and ground zero was set in stain resistant upholstery. ...
And like any fool that ever trusted physics, luck and a an institutional burrito... I began to pray.
Quite mode failed on approach, flaps were down...an the only involvement of "just air"...was the shear power of delivery.
I'm goin' with two words here, take them as you may:
Ass and heat.
The snoring stopped, grams pen halted mid vowel...and utter silence was spoken as if the plane itself was about to explain what just took place.
A lifetime unfolded...each sidways stolen glance revealed a businessman questioning his chosen career and a woman staring at the wing with religious intensity.
Deplane eye contact was avoided.
Nameless...but years later still....god knows whos forgiveness I'm seeking head bowed.
😑.....🫳🏻....✈
Middle seat. Seat belt light came on somewhere over Texas and my stomach changed the flight plan.
All started with that bad idea wrapped in a tortilla called an Airport Burrito.
Wolfed like a Viking at Gate 17C.
Seemingly in absence of memory; teteportation landed me wedged between a snoring business man and a gradma working a crossword with a pen.
Intestinal cabin pressure built and I told myself " the lie"....just butterflies is all.
The snoring mans shoulder blocked escape as granny pursed her lips an wrote 9 letter words like a federal judge....
Tur...bulance hit and so did my Delta foxhole prayer.
The quiet option chose itself as light seaped from darkness and ground zero was set in stain resistant upholstery. ...
And like any fool that ever trusted physics, luck and a an institutional burrito... I began to pray.
Quite mode failed on approach, flaps were down...an the only involvement of "just air"...was the shear power of delivery.
I'm goin' with two words here, take them as you may:
Ass and heat.
The snoring stopped, grams pen halted mid vowel...and utter silence was spoken as if the plane itself was about to explain what just took place.
A lifetime unfolded...each sidways stolen glance revealed a businessman questioning his chosen career and a woman staring at the wing with religious intensity.
Deplane eye contact was avoided.
Nameless...but years later still....god knows whos forgiveness I'm seeking head bowed.
😑.....🫳🏻....✈
