Washington
My post frequency has dramatically decreased, my profile at BlogSpot politely tells me.
It has of course, because I've been busy. I left my city, in the nether regions of Canada, at midnight. My plane gliding noiselessly above reams of clouds, moving as though covered in an ultimate shroud of darkness. I peered out the small oval window, absorbing the lights as they receded into tiny pinpricks, dots on the face of the earth.
We were told by the polite Air Canada attendant that we would have to make a connection in one hour in Toronto. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but we were flying to Washington. We would have to get our baggage out, then pass it through American security, then send it back into the connecting luggage.
We asked the attendant to send one of those cool, motor driven carts to rush us around Pearson airport in our desperate attempt to catch our plane to Washington. The attendant smiled, benevolently, and said that it wasn't possible.
Could we be let out of the plane before everyone else?
The attendant looked at us, sympathetically now.
"All I can do," she said, surveying us over small glasses, "is wish you good luck." She smiled then, revealing a pair of perfectly aligned white teeth.
_
We made it through Pearson, dragging our piles of baggage like war heroes, and made it at last to the plane for Washington.
If we had been two minutes later, we would've missed our flight.
The plane left Pearson quickly, ascending above the white clouds. It felt different this time, as though I was flying through a still painting- clouds suspended in ethereal beauty.
(I'll continue the rest when I get another chance to post)
It has of course, because I've been busy. I left my city, in the nether regions of Canada, at midnight. My plane gliding noiselessly above reams of clouds, moving as though covered in an ultimate shroud of darkness. I peered out the small oval window, absorbing the lights as they receded into tiny pinpricks, dots on the face of the earth.
We were told by the polite Air Canada attendant that we would have to make a connection in one hour in Toronto. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but we were flying to Washington. We would have to get our baggage out, then pass it through American security, then send it back into the connecting luggage.
We asked the attendant to send one of those cool, motor driven carts to rush us around Pearson airport in our desperate attempt to catch our plane to Washington. The attendant smiled, benevolently, and said that it wasn't possible.
Could we be let out of the plane before everyone else?
The attendant looked at us, sympathetically now.
"All I can do," she said, surveying us over small glasses, "is wish you good luck." She smiled then, revealing a pair of perfectly aligned white teeth.
_
We made it through Pearson, dragging our piles of baggage like war heroes, and made it at last to the plane for Washington.
If we had been two minutes later, we would've missed our flight.
The plane left Pearson quickly, ascending above the white clouds. It felt different this time, as though I was flying through a still painting- clouds suspended in ethereal beauty.
(I'll continue the rest when I get another chance to post)
posted by gah at 2:20 PM
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