[aka I’ve landed now and at least I’ve got internet]
“Are you excited?”
“It’s all gone very smoothly, hasn’t it?”
“And it’s only eleven more hours”
“And when we land, we’ll be home”
“When we land, we’ll be home”
“No, we’ll be in San Francisco”
“Which is where we live. Which makes it …”
“Well now, don’t let get hasty, we haven’t bloody taken off yet. Wah. What? I mean, that’s just silly-talk. Home? What? Can I get off please?”
And just then, the plane sped up and tipped back, and headed off into the unknown.
Or rather ‘the sky’ which isn’t really that unknown. Not to, like, physicists and stuff. Do physicists do ‘sky’? Or is that geographers? Is it not too ‘uppy’ for geographers? Geographers are more ‘downny’ in their area of expertise, are they not? Well, you know, scientists anyway. They know.
So it is not unknown to them. To the unknown scientists, whichever scientists those may be.
And also pilots. Hopefully. Really, seriously hopefully, because if they don’t know about it I’m going to start panicking, because we’ve still an hour till we land and if the pilots are sitting up there in the cab going
‘wow, what’s all this unknown outside the windscreen?’
‘yeah, I dunno graham, but if it’s unknown we should totally just crash before it bites us or something’
‘yeah, tony, totally.’
then I’m not sure I’m quite so happy about being on this flight anymore.
I’m quite bored.
Not by the time you read this. Bored, I mean. I’ll be in my new flat that I’ve never seen by the time you read this, so that will be quite an exciting time. Though also, arguably by the time you read this you’ll be asleep, so it won’t make that much difference. Or it might be a different time. Because by the time you read this I’ll be asleep so I won’t be bored, but it won’t be that exciting either.
Anyway: point being, by the time you read this, I won’t be on the flight anymore, because they haven’t installed in-flight blogging. Yet. They’ve installed inflight seat-to-seat text messages on a little infuriating handset – I managed to message my Beloved saying: HELLO I LOVE YOU THIS THING IS COCKING RUBBISH WE ARE MOVING TO CALIFORNIA HOW EXCITING IS THAT I AM PLANE-GASSY IT DOESN’T SMELL THOUGH which was testament to how bored I was at that point in the flight already, because it took me 40 minutes and an awful lot of frustration to type that. And because he was sitting right next to me.
And he already knew about the gas thing because I kept tapping him on the shoulder and doing mini-burps for his entertainment (his in-flight entertainment system had broken down so it was the least I could do).
I watched some films – In Bruges I loved an awful lot, I must say, some dreck with Helen Hunt I didn’t so much. There were other films I had wanted to see, but then thought I could save them for the way back, but then I remembered I wasn’t coming back, and then freaked out, quietly.
Someone’s going to come along in a minute and ask me to shut my laptop. Outside the window there are patchworks of fields around rivers, and stretches of drier-looking land stretching toward mountains. Soon we’ll land, and pick up the bags that weigh half a tonne each (though only a few millikilos under their allowed weight, which was a fucking miracle, frankly) we’ll get a cab, because anything else would be arm-breaking insanity, we’ll go and pick up keys and then … well, then excitement. Excitement and a bunch of trying to work out if we can improvise a bed, because otherwise we haven’t *strictly* got one. But we do have jetlag. So that’s almost as good. I know I was going to tell you about dinner last night – I just need to upload those photos first and oh
The seatbelt light’s just gone on, and there’s a stern looking woman in uniform walking toward me. I have to