Flight Travel is NOT like karma.
Today I do very little. I lay in a dark room. My tiny Airbnb studio apt in the upper east side of Manhattan is a sanctuary from the chaos of the city I once called home.
I have no clothes on . The airline lost my suitcase .. or rather they “misrouted it somewhere in the Midwest ” and I refuse to wear yesterday’s travel weary garments.
The little window AC unit roars rather than hums but gives off very little cool air.
I lay in complete stillness ,limbs barely grazing the bedsheet ,wishing for a fan and wondering why I travel and then wondering more still, why people DON’T travel. I think perhaps I may have come to some conclusions on that one .
I have not left the continental US and yet I am exhausted.
I stayed up till 3am the night before I left, packing the various articles of clothing, medicine and supplies that are essential when traveling in a developing country like Morocco. The previous nights I also slept very little, going to bed late and waking early, my mind racing like a restless animal.
These last weeks I have been overcome by a feeling I have come to know so well during this precarious time of life transition. My senses have grown more acute and even the most pragmatic daily events seem to make me cry as I experience my body as a receptacle for the vast and somewhat troubled emotions of the world to take refuge. I am so tired I can’t sleep and yet so wired I can’t think straight .
And so it is in this state of exhaustion and stress that I hustle to the airport yesterday morning. When I arrive at the gate I discover my flight to NY is two hours delayed due to air traffic control “conditions”. When I finally board the plane I settle into my bulkhead seat, pull the shades of the windows open and enjoy the simple pleasure of being able to fully stretch out my legs.
When the onslaught of passengers has mellowed, I get up to talk with the flight attendant. I tell her I have a UTI and that I may be getting up frequently during the flight to pee.
I expect .. hmmmmm..I don’t what I expect .. but I expect.. something.
She is stone faced neutral. She replies that although my seat is close, that I MUST NOT under any circumstance use the first class cabin bathroom REGARDLESS of my medical condition. “You will need to go to the back of the cabin and wait like everyone else”, she says.
She smiles unsympathetically and wishes me a good flight.
I feel like a peasant.
I glance into first class . The passengers are unaware of their privilege , they sip wine, and cocktails , and curl beneath their fleecy airline blankets , heads or backs propped up by a pillow. Their bathroom is unused .No one it seems has to pee in first class. But then again there are 12 seats and 1 bathroom versus the 200 seats and 3 bathrooms in economy. When the flight attendant sees me stalking the first class passengers she hurriedly pulls the curtain closed. It might as well be an iron curtain.
I walk to the back of the plane and wait in line with 2 screaming toddlers who clearly have to “go bad”. I seriously reconsider Depends as an option for the future.
When I return to my seat I come face to face with a tall young man dragging a tense muzzled German shepherd. My mind panics for a moment as I try to recall if I packed my marijuana gummies in my carry on .. I hope not.
I hope not because I assume that this animal is a security dog and has been brought on to sniff the aircraft and determine if there is anything “illegal “on the plane but NO , instead the man pulls his dog into the middle seat NEXT TO ME !
The woman on the aisle starts to sneeze and to itch herself .
“I’m allergic, she says . And my son I’m going to visit in NY is too. I can’t have this dog here”!
The dog is unsettled and his owner can’t seem to mellow him out.
The woman on the aisle moves to the back of the plane and is replaced by an overeager thirty something man who is clearly excited to accommodate.
“What’s her name”? he asks the dog owner.
“Fanny. Fanny is a military dog.”
What does that mean and why is she on this plane?
Fanny sits on my feet , her tail is pushed up against my knees. She must be 100 pounds .
Her collar states: DO NOT PET ME. She makes funny whining noises from inside her muzzle.
I squeeze my body towards the window to make room for her,
The pilot comes on over the intercom ,”Arrival time in Laguardia is now 5:45 PM.
Unfortunately, due to severe weather in the midwest we will be in the air for an extra 45 minutes. We will reroute to the north over the Canadian Rockies. Sorry for the inconvenience folks.”!
I sigh, put in my ear buds and turn on the relaxation meditation I have on my phone.
A soothing voice comes through.
“Rather than avoiding uncomfortable experiences and sensations, learn to get comfortable with the discomfort”.
This is going to be my mantra.
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