#121
The plane took a deep bank to the left, a smooth and careful, calculated turn. The sun came through the windows turning each person’s face into a blaze of orange and yellow as if the world was on fire. Morning. As we glided through the clouds, the sun disappeared for a moment. Looking through the windows now all you see is an ocean of white, like you’re flying through a marshmallow or whipped cream. It looked damp outside, the ice that had accumulated on the windows was melted and there was condensation gathering on the outside. The air turns moist; you could almost taste the water in it, a drastic change from the dry and putrid air that circulated while we were cruising at altitude. It smelled nice. Fresh. Clean. We took a hard turn to the right this time and as the plane turned, you could look out onto the city below. We had passed the cloud cover. A smooth descent so far. The city still looked small, the tiny cars, houses. The roads with cars and trucks moving at what looks faster than the plane. Perspective is everything, I thought. We straightened up and the signal for the flight attendants to sit down, rang. Seatbelts were secure, tray tables were up. The plane pulled into the landing lane. Straight on from here to the ground. A controlled crash. Wheels down, you could hear the air underneath. The body ached and moaned as it fell towards the earth, having to catch itself with its wings, the air pushing it up, holding it, the engines trying their best to maintain a semblance of normalcy, go forward but down at the same time. Blue lights guide it toward its destination. A parking bay is being prepared by many workers. Waiting. Time stands still and at the very moment when the plane is about to touch down when all of the forces of gravity and physics want to hold the aircraft there in a peculiar state of not on the ground, not in the air, somewhere in-between, the captain has to force the body of the jet down into the tarmac, with a gentle but forceful thud, the back wheels take hold of the gritty road, letting off smoke to those that can see it from afar, and the front of the plane comes down softly. A bit of a side wiggle, we are put back into our seats, and the brakes are engaged, the flaps come up to slow us down, drag, wind resistance and we slowly come to a full stop before pulling off of the runway on a small side road to the right. Taxing to the gate now for what seems to be too long, mobile phones start to chime to life, text messages arrive, emails from friends, co-workers, lovers, and family members. Blog RSS feeds re-activate. You are back to earth, back on the land that you left so far away, back to where the air is normal, the temperature livable, and back to whatever type of normalcy it is that you lead here. The plane pulls in, stops, and the engines shut down. I realized how loud they were once they are off, it feels eerily quiet. People stand up, grab their things, wait to disembark. The door is opened. Bags are being unloaded from underneath and we move, slowly through the aisles, looking at the business and first-class seats. Thinking what it must be like to fly in those. Thanking the flight attendants for their work, their kindness. For doing their job. Down the jet bridge into the terminal which is bright. A person with a walkie-talkie standing there. Watching us. Connections? Baggage claim? A line for the women’s toilet. We fly as a group and then depart as an individual. Bags were grabbed, immigration and customs negotiated. We are here. I am here. You are here. Here we are.