Even more musings from the sky, in a plane, and at airports. I slept through most of the journey and didn't end up writing much this time around. Here is what I did end up writing though.
Nothing like some turbulence to shake some sense of morality into you. Not to mention, make you appreciate and marvel at this remarkable feat of engineering and science, what is essentially a huge tin can flying through the sky at ridiculous speeds.
I'm also looking forward to a little disorientation induced by what I can only gather to be all the drugs wearing off and extreme jet lag. How else do you explain feeling like a tourist in your own 'home town?' (Other than the obvious.)
Your own house where you spent 8 months just 5 months ago.
Around the world like a daft punk song. With all the sore muscles and a general disregard and indifference to culture.
Waffles for breakfast in Philadelphia, Eggs Benedict for lunch in London. Biryani, perhaps, for dinner in Riyadh.
A quote from Fight Club that I've heard quite a few times but only recently actually read in the book has suddenly taken new meaning.
"If you wake up at a different time, in a different place, could you wake up as a different person?"
It's like the feeling of being in limbo, just floating in empty space. That is how traveling feels to me. Especially at airports where I'm not worried about keeping face, or "the Romans."
The feeling of being no where in particular. In transit for a whole day.
That is all, really. I slept through most of the journey, I've gotten too comfortable with it. It's actually a good thing.
It's "me," time and it's not possible for anything else to get in the middle of it.
Unless a "single-serving friend," on the seat next to me decides to be chatty. Like the lady visiting her daughter in London was on the way there. We talked about the world, and men beating their chests and everything being just a pissing contest over territory.
There was the guy at the airport that I talked to for a single minute, asking if I could have the seat at the bar.
There was the airport employee in Philadelphia that thought it would funny to comment on how cold it is in Riyadh when it obviously isn't.
And that's that, really. There's been other random nonsense that I've been contemplating blogging about. Perhaps later?
Ciao, world.
:::
Nothing like some turbulence to shake some sense of morality into you. Not to mention, make you appreciate and marvel at this remarkable feat of engineering and science, what is essentially a huge tin can flying through the sky at ridiculous speeds.
I'm also looking forward to a little disorientation induced by what I can only gather to be all the drugs wearing off and extreme jet lag. How else do you explain feeling like a tourist in your own 'home town?' (Other than the obvious.)
Your own house where you spent 8 months just 5 months ago.
Around the world like a daft punk song. With all the sore muscles and a general disregard and indifference to culture.
Waffles for breakfast in Philadelphia, Eggs Benedict for lunch in London. Biryani, perhaps, for dinner in Riyadh.
A quote from Fight Club that I've heard quite a few times but only recently actually read in the book has suddenly taken new meaning.
"If you wake up at a different time, in a different place, could you wake up as a different person?"
It's like the feeling of being in limbo, just floating in empty space. That is how traveling feels to me. Especially at airports where I'm not worried about keeping face, or "the Romans."
The feeling of being no where in particular. In transit for a whole day.
:::
That is all, really. I slept through most of the journey, I've gotten too comfortable with it. It's actually a good thing.
It's "me," time and it's not possible for anything else to get in the middle of it.
Unless a "single-serving friend," on the seat next to me decides to be chatty. Like the lady visiting her daughter in London was on the way there. We talked about the world, and men beating their chests and everything being just a pissing contest over territory.
There was the guy at the airport that I talked to for a single minute, asking if I could have the seat at the bar.
There was the airport employee in Philadelphia that thought it would funny to comment on how cold it is in Riyadh when it obviously isn't.
And that's that, really. There's been other random nonsense that I've been contemplating blogging about. Perhaps later?
Ciao, world.
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