apostrophenow

"The Red Eye Blues"


Ah yes. Home again.

Made it back to the ranch in time for sunrise.

The trip wasn't too bad. Security was a breeze. I had a row of seats to myself. Fortunately, the plane wasn't an Airbus, the hydraulics whir and hum all around you inside those things, the extraneous sound effects make me apprehensive of crashing.

I'm sure there are many who have more flights under their belt than I do, I stopped counting after I turned 17. But I still get butterflies, and often I get a panicky feeling of utter cluelessness up to the point where I actually plant myself somewhere in front of my gate. Intoxication doesn't really help, but I find that a general dulling of the senses is essential.

Have you ever had a dream while sleeping on a plane? Neither have I.

I managed to get a little sleep, but someone had their MP3 player turned up too loud and their music provided an unnecessary soundtrack to my unconscious delirium. Something similar happened to me when I was laid out in the hospital recovering from my first cancer surgery a few years ago; the IV pump next to my bed cranked out a quiet tune very much like the background music to old-school Nintendo Mario Brothers, a morphine induced funk that has haunted me ever since.

The music I heard on the plane was barely perceptable, like a faint buzzing at first. Then the buzzing found a cadence. If I'd had the faculties to turn my head, or stuff shreds of cocktail napkin into my ears, I could have evaded the buzzing. But I was so out of it I was powerless to do anything but sit there half asleep. The faint buzzing cadence began to sound familiar. And to my horror, I realized what it was... "Well, its alright to be little bitty - Little hometown or a big old city..."

My leg spazzed and I kicked the seat in front of me violently. Inside my restive slumber I saw a bright light. I felt my jaw set and a muscle in my neck convulsed. My body stiffened and I tilted my head straight back like I was trying to wipe my nose on the seat where my back was resting the second before. What the fuck was happening to me? I tried to say "oh fuck!" but all that came out was "mmmm mmmmm!". It occured to me how silly it would be to die while making the yummy sound and I tried to laugh, which hurt my chest.

It was fucking pandemonium. And no one saw me. In a brief flash it was over, and I was sitting upright, drenched in cold sweat, muddled and shaken. Psychic assault? Why would anyone bother? Alien abduction? I don't think so, my ass feels just fine and no one else complained about any missing time. Conniption fit? I will have to think about it some more. I don't hate country music per se. I just object to the numerous atrocities inflicted in country music's name.

Nevertheless, something kooky happens to me every time I fly.

And now, I shall lay down and attempt to get some rest.