[I actual wrote this in my head on the airplane, but things get crazy when you get back to the real world so it took me some time to put it into pixels]
I think I'm dead. At least that's the thought seriously running through my head from the middle seat on American 731. I'm on the 4th of 5 flights in 2 days that will take me home and time has stopped. Maybe I have died and I just don't know it. Maybe this is what hell is like, stuck in middle seat 17E of an American Airlines flight from LaGuardia to Dallas Texas between two men who do not speak. Maybe this is what happens when we die. We don't remember the plane crash or whatever, but all of a sudden we are in a never ending, grey limbo, bored beyond all capability. Hell is not horrendous fire and flames and sulfur, but it's the middle seat on a flight that just goes on and on and on.
The reason I'm thinking this is because time has stopped. Technically, the longest leg of this journey was the 7 hours from Dublin to New York yesterday evening. It, pun intended, just flew by. Now I'm not sure if it's because I had a window seat and in a rare act of kindness the travel seating god didn't put next to an arm rest stealing, leg touching, mouth breather in a suit who has no sense of humor or any desire whatsoever to even smile. Or maybe it was the pleasant young woman who sat next to me, or the three, free, inflight movies on my own personal entertainment system. But that flight felt like 3 hours. This flight however, a supposed 4 hours, is just not ending. Time is not a static element, it's surely ebbs and flows. Or I'm dead.
But finally I do arrive in Orange County, so I guess I'm not dead..... wait a minute.
