This Fish Needs A Bicycle

from 39,000 feet with love

Hi,

I'm surprised to find myself writing to you. But sitting here in seat 4F, listening to the static of the jet engines, it just seems like the thing to do.

Outside of my window right now I can see the Aurora Borealis. It's beautiful. I've seen storms roll in on the horizon of a perfectly clear, blue afternoon. And that's what this looks like, only showers of light against the perfect black canvas of night.

I didn't get to talk to you tonight. Can't use my cell phone -- might throw the plane off its course, the way talking to you might throw me off mine.

There's a baby crying somewhere in the back. She's been crying for over an hour and I can tell that some of the passengers are starting to get annoyed. Especially the woman with the dog. Though, where does she get off? I've been breathing in her stinky rat-dog all the way from Chicago. Ladies with stinky dogs should have nothing to say about fussy children. You have never struck me as the type to be annoyed by something so innocuous as a crying baby. But if you were, I'd remind you that this altitude hurts their tiny ears. And then to distract you, I'd twist that ring around on your middle finger and ask you to play make up answers to the Inflight Magazine crossword puzzle. And maybe I'd swap seats with you so you could see the Northern Lights better. But then again, I kind of like that you have to lean over me to see -- because then I'm breathing in your warm, cottony, low-maintenance man smell and not nasty rat-dog.

This flight seems never ending. But the baby and the dog lady have both fallen asleep, so maybe I should try to do the same. Since you're not really here to make up silly answers to the crossword or tease me about my pronunciation of "multi-vitamin" or how dirty my flip-flops are, I'll go ahead and doze off.

Sleep well,

H

Posted by This Fish at September 28, 2003 07:35 PM