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For his sins our hero suffered through several lifetimes trapped in a steel tube, hurtling through the air at 35,000 feet listening to the 20-year-old girls (these were not women) in the seats in front chattering about, “Like, you know, I’m not dating now, because, like, guys are all the same, like, ‘I’m gonna cheat on you,” like, y’know, ohmygod, it’s like so not worth it,” all the while thinking that when he got home he was going to speak with his daughters and if the word “like” came up in any sentence more than once he would have no choice but to kill them to save others from the misery he had been through.
There are several signs your pilot is high on that new plane smell, including winding the smooth new engines up for an extra-steep ascent, showing off with a tighter than usual corkscrew out of San Jose and blatant, unembarrassed skimming of the top of the cloud-line.
When you add the three hours spent sitting in the plane, waiting for the mechanics to fix something that they eventually find out they can’t, to the one hour waiting for another available plane to fly you from Dallas to Portland, to the four hour flight and the eventual one hour drive home, Bob thought he’d be able to remember the Tacoma weather story that the woman sitting next to him on the plane had told him no less than five times during their many hours together, but fortunately, when Bob finally woke up the next morning in his own bed, he’d forgotten nearly everything.
Remember how strange it was in the days just after Sept 11 that you didn’t hear any airplanes going over?
Hearing a strange noise, Little Bear looked up and saw a bird… no, not a bird, some kind of really noisy tin can, flying high overhead, and thinking the sky is a stupid place to put one’s garbage went back to watching the bees pollinating the blackberry flowers.
Finding himself on a beach as the sun rose, Juan was nearly ready to suspend his disbelief in the magic of airplanes.
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