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Description
Up at 2am, watching the rabbits graze on the hotel lawn while I wait for the taxi shuttling between here and the airport to return. In the yellow security light they eat together quietly, and I feel as if the sight should calm me, and I’m disappointed when it doesn’t.
An hour later I’m going through security, getting searched when I forget to remove my belt and getting chased down by staff when I leave my wallet behind. I’m not a practised flyer.
Two hours after that, I’ve boarded the plane and we’re taxi-ing to the runway, where the engines begin to roar and the land begins to hurtle by outside the window. I hunch to look through it as we lift off, the safety information still rattling in my head. Brace brace, it goes.
How many water landings end in inflatable slides, and fluorescent jackets, and peeping whistles, rather than a scattering of debris? One in ten? Zero in n?
I digress. There’s nothing new to say about seeing your country from above, but my brain tries regardless. A tiny running-stitch thread of a train pulls through a station. Wind turbines stick into the soft green loam like push-pins. Towns and fields divide the land, less like patchwork than moth-eaten swathes of
Hey can airliners fly with just one functioning engine? This one has two, but just hypothetically, if this one I’m looking at just burst into flames all of a sudden, would we be okay? Seems like there should be four just in case.
Anyway, the clouds foam up below, like great rising mounds of
Okay no joke, the child lolling on me from the neighbouring seat just slapped the iPad out of my hand, I’m so done. The sky is the worst, and I feel like a sloshing toilet full of cortisol. That’s the last millilitre of description I had left, from here it’s vomit all the way down.
All complaints regarding the abrupt ending are to be directed to the annoying child.

Description
Up at 2am, watching the rabbits graze on the hotel lawn while I wait for the taxi shuttling between here and the airport to return. In the yellow security light they eat together quietly, and I feel as if the sight should calm me, and I’m disappointed when it doesn’t.
An hour later I’m going through security, getting searched when I forget to remove my belt and getting chased down by staff when I leave my wallet behind. I’m not a practised flyer.
Two hours after that, I’ve boarded the plane and we’re taxi-ing to the runway, where the engines begin to roar and the land begins to hurtle by outside the window. I hunch to look through it as we lift off, the safety information still rattling in my head. Brace brace, it goes.
How many water landings end in inflatable slides, and fluorescent jackets, and peeping whistles, rather than a scattering of debris? One in ten? Zero in n?
I digress. There’s nothing new to say about seeing your country from above, but my brain tries regardless. A tiny running-stitch thread of a train pulls through a station. Wind turbines stick into the soft green loam like push-pins. Towns and fields divide the land, less like patchwork than moth-eaten swathes of
Hey can airliners fly with just one functioning engine? This one has two, but just hypothetically, if this one I’m looking at just burst into flames all of a sudden, would we be okay? Seems like there should be four just in case.
Anyway, the clouds foam up below, like great rising mounds of
Okay no joke, the child lolling on me from the neighbouring seat just slapped the iPad out of my hand, I’m so done. The sky is the worst, and I feel like a sloshing toilet full of cortisol. That’s the last millilitre of description I had left, from here it’s vomit all the way down.
All complaints regarding the abrupt ending are to be directed to the annoying child.