Nightglow Window

The Forced Intimacy Of Economy Class

Back in the saddle, herding the cattle drive of paper and e-mail and stories across the broad prairie of my desk. That's okay because it's only for a few hours and then I’m gone with the girl I love to adventurous places. That ain’t bad, nosiree.

Another day on the bus at 36,000 feet.

Slept well but the 5:30 wake up call hurt. Once again, kudos to the St. Julien and its bedding. Doubt I'll be seeing hotels that nice in Europe.

6:15 a.m. driver pickup and was at the airport with gobs of time to spare, so I called Brian. He sounded a little rough in the voice and deflated in spirit. Who could blame him?

But he made a really good point, Europe will always be there. How true. Pick a date and give me some warning and I'll so be there next summer. Switzerland and Italy? Yep. Spain? Si senor. I just want him to name it, and we'll make it happen. I know how disappointed he must be though.

It was a rough ride this morning. No news here, but planes are so ridiculously cramped. A redhead with pale blue eyes from Brigham Young University was in the seat in front of me and I could smell her conditioner when she reclined the seat, my knees against her back when sitting upright or playing footsie with her when I slouched. Oh, the strange forced intimacy of economy class.

Could have been worse I guess. Could have been Hans, the 240-pound deer hunter fresh from the kill, smelling of Slim Jims and Yoohoo. Still a bit awkward, though.

Then the chop began. I turned on Brian Eno’s The Pearl and tried to drift and the plane lurched and shook hard enough to make people cry out.

What an amazing album. How can it possibly be 22 years old now? Too spare to be sentimental; evocative beyond belief.

So the plane yawed uncomfortably and I imagined myself reclined on a green hill somewhere peaceful, staring at the clouds. Untroubled. Serene. Not a big hill. Maybe one good for sledding (build no jumps!) set near a pond. A world of green and blue and white clouds and the grass tickling my legs as the cumulus (cumuli?) drift stately by.

Snuck in to REI on the drive up to the office and surprised Christy, took her to lunch. The chemistry of excitement palpable as we plan the next 24 hours and how we’re going to get everything done.

The broad, blue horizon of the next 10 days. It’s sweet enough to get me back on a plane tomorrow for the Big Hop.

Time to get back to the cattle drive.