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no time for sergeants
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notes from an eastbound 757
i am 197 miles from denver,
according to the flight map
on the back of the seat
in front of me.
we are merely passing by,
overhead,
on our way to detroit.
i look and look
but i cannot see
the mile-high city
from my five-mile-high window seat.
oddly, my thoughts turn to rebekah, and i imagine some kind of allegory about thinking you're close to something without really being very close to it, not really being able to see it.
or something.
the indian or pakistani or bangladeshi woman in my row rolls her eyes as her husband, sitting on the other side of the aisle, was handed two small bottles of vodka with his two sodas, much like the way i metaphorically roll my eyes as she and her mother eat their meat-and-cheese sandwiches.
i ask for a bloody mary mix with no ice, which usually ensures that i get a whole can. i'm given two bags of gluten-free pretzel sticks as something to wash down.
yankton. it appears to sit on the border of south dakota and nebraska. i had never heard of the place but a dammed missouri river drew my attention to it. surprisingly, the town is marked on the flight map. damn.
the clouds below almost seem to be arranged in rows. that we are moving faster than they are makes them seem as if in suspended animation.
crossing the mississippi river by air is an interesting sight in summer. the earth west of the river has been brown for most of the flight, but east of it is a lush green undulating surface. for some reason, this pleases me.
approaching lake michigan, the ground and then water has been obscured by clouds, and much of the rest of the flight remains as such. there is no significant view of the earth again until our descent into detroit metro.
a late arrival. a missed bus to east lansing. a kindly discussion with an instructor from a detroit-area seminary.
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190112
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