It isn’t hard to understand why the ancient gods chose to live in the heavens above. —- Just minutes after takeoff my eyes were taken prisoner by the view from my window seat. Immediately in the semi distance (our constantly growing altitude made it nigh impossible to accurately determine as a layman) storm minded stratocumulus clouds hovering with menacing intent unleashed their precipitate upon the hills. From behind the storm though, a light enveloped. Warm and bloody orange, the sunlight added depth to the previously two dimensional landscape. The clouds were no longer shapeless blobs, but masses of liquid mercury sliding into and becoming each other with such simplistic artful ease. (Sunset at takeoff. Sounds a bit like an over dramatic acoustic song written by a twenty something with a chip on his shoulder and a hole in his heart). Now, the clouds weren’t pierced by the aircraft in a swift motion. It was more like a knife cutting through layers of a cake, only in contrast to spongy sweet pastry, the atmospheric layers were navigated. The clouds parted and from my window seat I could see the ocean above and below of billowing white. There were spots where the land beneath (Scotland’s highlands, wrapping and rolling green deserts) was still partially illuminated by the blood orange light of the setting sun. Above however, the cooler colors more commonly associated with the sky were prominent as opposed to the warm setting below. The contrast made me think of the classics - good and evil, night and day, yin and yang, Yankees and red socks. It was beautiful. Crossing higher into the atmosphere the cool blue and warm orange that lost its bloody tinge were blending well above the infinite sea of marshmellow and cotton below. The land was no longer visible, but at nearly six miles in the sky not much would have been overly distinguishable. Fasten seatbelt light turned off. One click and slide later my body could readjust in the uncomfortable seat of coach. A drink and ‘snack’ cart came by. Whiskey and coke, why not? Airplanes clearly do not understand the concept that when I order liquor I plan on being at least moderately inebriated by the end. Not with these fucking sizes or prices, Jesus Christ. This “mixer size” coke, which was planned as a chaser, but made me feel like a giant in a land of dwarves. Frustrated and unsatiated. Screw it, I can drink another time. The cool blue grew cooler and darker. Night is coming. As the inevitable absence of light overwhelmed the aircraft and it’s surroundings, the last little bits of sunlight danced around on the top of the clouds now below. The higher our ascent, the more the gaseous entities appeared to solidify. Looking down, out of my window, a new landscape of rolling hills and valleys appeared, made of what appeared to be thick, dense snow or even ice. The visual texture made me think that if I were to reach out and grab a handful of the icy cloud-ground that I would experience a similar sensation to having light airy ice cream melt in my hand on a hot day. It would collapse in itself and lose its chill quite quickly, but I would still feel it. In the distance more clouds appeared to be forming above the clouds the plane had clawed its way through. Perhaps the fading light was playing devious tricks upon my susceptible mortal eyes, but in the distance, just out of focus (as with anything lacking the testicular fortitude granted by scientific evidence) there was what looked like a city. Wishful thinking is the culprit in all probability. Wishful thinking and scotch are a deadly combination. Obscurities become convoluted into half baked semi coherent conspiracy theories of sorts to satisfy our own selfish needs for fulfillment of our dreams and answers to our unanswerable questions. Did I forget to mention that I haven’t smoked a cigarette in a week? After a pack a day nearly for six or more years to none overnight had been fucking with my head. Wishful thinking, scotch, and nicotine withdrawals are a deadlier combination. We all crave. Giving in is the moment we strive for. We cut ourselves off so we can re-indulge our vices and experience them for the first time again. God is giving in to the carnal desires we all have. Fucking fighting eating smoking fading. But that’s not the point right now. Olympus was passing in the blurred distance. Rapidly the aircraft began its decent back to earth. The last of the light blue sky disappeared into the clouds as we dove back into them. Minutes later I could see blurs of light, cities and roads still active into the night. Fasten seat belts. The lights became individualize with new clarity and validity as their proximity became closer. They were real, as was I. The plane hit hard and fast, breaks dropping our speed by a few hundred miles and hour nigh instantly. It threw me forward in my seat slightly, nothing alarming. My ass was numb and my desire to stretch my legs was overwhelming. The plane came to a complete stop finally and I exited the rear exit behind my seat. Climbing down the short staircase my legs felt a resurgence of life and energy. I’m awake. And it’s now night. Wonderful.
