vapid, jet-lagged ramblings.
On my flight from San Francisco to Philadelphia this morning, I was seated next to this guy who must've been barely a few years older than me. I fell asleep at some point during the journey and woke up to find him staring at me, grinning sheepishly. I was in a state of utter disorientation, and so it took a few seconds to figure out why he looked so embarassed. Turns out that sometime during my nap, my left arm had collapsed and landed comfortably on his upper thigh. I apologised profusely and he laughed it off. For the rest of the flight, I couldn't sleep, fearing that Freudian forces would take over my arm again.
*********
I'm back in Montreal. As always after a long journey, I feel hollow in my stomach. Part of that might be due to the irregularity of meals during travelling, but mostly, it's just due to total disorientation. I've been in 4 countries in the past 4 months. If I'd been travelling for the sake of it, it'd have been different. But this is not fun. Just as I'm getting used to living somewhere, I'm uprooted from my base, and have to start all over again. I know the airports in Bombay, Dubai, London and Montreal like I do my own house. I know exactly where to eat, what stores to browse, where to find the cleanest rest rooms. I even know the staff at certain places. I used to love flying when I was younger. Airports excited me - Travelling was an excuse for me to buy books, to eat fast food, to help my mum navigate and feel all grown up. Now all of that is as mundane as the bus ride to school.
In fact,the mere thought of airports fills me with dread. All I see are throngs of people trying to rebuild their destroyed sense of time and space. It depresses me to see them with their dishevelled hair, trying to figure out if their connection is from the same terminal. It depresses me to see weary parents trying to placate their equally weary babies. It depresses me when flight attendants greet me cheerfully. It depresses me when they mechanically demonstrate the safety regulations, because I know that every crashed airliner followed the same routine to which no one ever pays attention. It depresses me to be in a metal container, suspended in mid-air by forces I really don't understand, but that feel more unnatural to me than anything. It depresses me that the relief I feel once I've landed is quickly replaced by frustration, knowing fully well that I'll have to repeat this procedure very soon. More than anything, however, I hate watching people greeting their loved ones. More often than not, I arrive not to squeals and kisses, but to harrowed taxi drivers. As of now I can't concieve of ever feeling excited about flying again. Don't quote me on that though. I have plans to go to Tuva some time in next two years, and that might just change everything.
*********
I'm back in Montreal. As always after a long journey, I feel hollow in my stomach. Part of that might be due to the irregularity of meals during travelling, but mostly, it's just due to total disorientation. I've been in 4 countries in the past 4 months. If I'd been travelling for the sake of it, it'd have been different. But this is not fun. Just as I'm getting used to living somewhere, I'm uprooted from my base, and have to start all over again. I know the airports in Bombay, Dubai, London and Montreal like I do my own house. I know exactly where to eat, what stores to browse, where to find the cleanest rest rooms. I even know the staff at certain places. I used to love flying when I was younger. Airports excited me - Travelling was an excuse for me to buy books, to eat fast food, to help my mum navigate and feel all grown up. Now all of that is as mundane as the bus ride to school.
In fact,the mere thought of airports fills me with dread. All I see are throngs of people trying to rebuild their destroyed sense of time and space. It depresses me to see them with their dishevelled hair, trying to figure out if their connection is from the same terminal. It depresses me to see weary parents trying to placate their equally weary babies. It depresses me when flight attendants greet me cheerfully. It depresses me when they mechanically demonstrate the safety regulations, because I know that every crashed airliner followed the same routine to which no one ever pays attention. It depresses me to be in a metal container, suspended in mid-air by forces I really don't understand, but that feel more unnatural to me than anything. It depresses me that the relief I feel once I've landed is quickly replaced by frustration, knowing fully well that I'll have to repeat this procedure very soon. More than anything, however, I hate watching people greeting their loved ones. More often than not, I arrive not to squeals and kisses, but to harrowed taxi drivers. As of now I can't concieve of ever feeling excited about flying again. Don't quote me on that though. I have plans to go to Tuva some time in next two years, and that might just change everything.
posted by Auri @ 9:47 PM
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