Travelogue Part 13: Bunch of Fucking Bullshit!

img_5736Friday 3rd March 21:40 (US)

So I’m sitting on my plane, passengers are still finding their seats – wheelchair assistance includes being allowed on ahead of the others so I’m one of the smug guys already sorted – and I don’t know if my fear of the taking off and being in the air like a heavy, metal bird bit is bothering me most or if it’s the sorrow at leaving behind my American family that’s got me so close to public sobbing.

They so are my family. I’ve never cared that Scott and I were born to different parents in different parts of the United Kingdom back in the being tiny baby days, from pretty much day one of knowing the guy he’s been my brother. And Kari is therefore my sister whether she likes that or not. Happily I think she’s ok with it. Which also makes me an extra uncle to the kids, both of whom gave me hugs and kisses before I left for the airport.

I’m keen for the leaving the ground to happen because then I can just put myself in hands greater than my own and maybe even sleep some. While we’re still on the ground there is ever chance I might freak the fuck out and demand to be let off the plane. Oh, except for the diazepam my doctor prescribed for this very part of my adventuring which should just about keep me calm enough not to shit myself or frighten the horses. And by horses I mean humans. And horses if any horses have been allowed on.

I can’t see any horses. I might have to stop writing for a bit and sneak around with some hay and apples and see if I can’t smoke those horses out of hiding.

Saturday 4th March 06:50 (UK)

Three and a half hours to touchdown. I just looked at the flight tracker thing and this journey doesn’t go over Canada anywhere near as much as the flight over. We’re long past Pennsylvania and New York State, places I drove through on my way to Niagara Falls the other week. Not quite halfway across the Atlantic but those bits of Canada we did fly above are already behind us and a billion leagues of late-winter cold water flops about some thirty, forty thousand feet below now.

I don’t think I’ve slept. I may have dozed but sleep isn’t something I like to do in a mostly upright position. Sleeping looks like it will have to wait until landing and being on a bus and getting to my home has happened. All of which will take fucking hours. I look forward to seeing my cranky face in the mirror once I’m home. By which I mean I don’t. You knew that.

My brain is predominantly on shut down. Oh yeah, I can always write things even when virtually comatose. It just pours out like ectoplasm and usually makes about as much sense. But engaging with the emotions waging war inside of me at this present time is not something I’d like my brain to be doing at altitude and without sleep.

They just told us to fasten our seat belts so that’s shit me up even though I know it’s probably about turbulence or weather. I may be able to make myself get on these big flying machines now but I still no likey and I still do the scareds. Luckily I have staved off taking a second diazepam for just such occurrences so I guess this is my cue to take one. If I’m going down then I wanna do it the way Brad Pitt describes it in Fight Club – calm as a fucking Hindu cow.

Cows, horses…am I secretly expecting this whole journey to be a kind of mid-air rodeo? I don’t have any spurs. I’m no good with a lasso. I can’t even shout “Yee haw!” in an authentically all-American accent. I don’t think I understand the principles of jet propulsion in the slightest.

As far as weather sites told me yesterday the temperature in the UK is going to be warmer than those I’ve just left in Toledo. For most of my time in Ohio that was not the case so it seems weather has decided to be my friend for a while. Weather and I have a strange relationship: sometimes we get on like an explosion of hydrogen and a human being on fire. Other times we’re wet blankets. And snow can fuck off unless it’s on a postcard. Snow is such a wanker. “Oh look at me, I’m snow, I’m the whitest sort of weather phenomenon you can find. You can ski all on me and break your legs if you want. And I can give you hypothermia or just avalanche over you and there ain’t a goddamned thing you can do about it so suck it.” Wanker.

Your experience may differ. But snow is still a wanker.

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