Back to Texas again. With a fresh infection of the travel bug. The smell of plane, the sensation of tarmac peeling away beneath us, and the sight of farmland patched in corduroy and green velvet 34,000 feet below never fails to move me. Somebody medicate me!
I thoroughly enjoyed the flight, despite the lingering feeling of needing spinal decompression and the slight nausea that came over me every time the flight attendant came down the tiny aisle accompanied by his noxious phantom of Man Perfume. This was no Axe, I’m telling you. More like Guillotine.
Two little girls about nine years old sat opposite me. They were the most identical twins I’ve ever seen, slight, pale, and blonde, with big blue eyes. They wore identical jumpers with leggings, had identical braids the same length, and identical blue baseball caps. One had glasses and both of them were extremely shy. Whenever I spoke to the one with glasses, who was closest to me, she sort of giggled and turned to the other twin. The other twin was apparently the boss/spokesperson. She told me her name was Kira. They were exceptionally polite. I didn’t talk to them much because I didn’t want to freak them out any more than I already had. They didn’t talk to me, put down their trays when I did, got cran-apple juice as I did, and generally surveyed me from the corners of their eyes. They played “I Went to a Chinese Restaurant,” and I engrossed myself in the first 98 pages of China Road and thought about China, Afghanistan and everything in between.
Two favorite quotes from China Road so far:
(On Democracy) “Once you allow people to choose their own pizza toppings, sooner or later they are going to want to choose their political leaders.” Pg. 18
“So, take my advice. If you’re planning any sensitive journalistic missions to China, pack your Jockeys.” Pg. 87
(Concluding his explanation of how he maintains security by hiding the minidisk of his recorder in his underwear when doing hard core journalism.) Rob Gifford cracks me up.
My other neighbors on the flight included a middle aged couple and their high school aged son on the way to Vancouver for a cruise. I am prone to unjustly judging people who go on cruises. No offense meant to a reader who might have happened to go on a cruise. So while I was not reading China Road or trying to engage the wallflower twins I concentrated on not judging the cruisers. And thinking about how it’s been forever and ever since I held a baby, a thought triggered by the mother of an infant bound comfortingly to her chest in a brown sling. It looked like an Anne Geddes baby. Her toddler, a boy with brown hair, enjoyed the landing immensely but seemed a little confused. He kept giggling and saying, “Lots of bumps Mommy. Bumps! Bumps!” It was somewhere between a happy giggle and a nervous giggle.
As we disembarked I helped retrieve the twins’ bags and they seemed to be warming up after all. I decided the cruisers were decent people after all probably in need of a vacation and took a chainsaw to the log in my eye. Part of this decision was influence by the fact that they had packed peanut butter and jelly for lunch just like me. The baby was precious and never cried for more than a few minutes and the boy was happy to have his seat belt off.
And now, I am home.
