Women Who Behave

Oh, the red eye. What a different way to fly. To those of us who thrive on the interest life offers to one deprived of sleep, the red eye flight is peaceful and attractive. You are rarely disturbed, and the conversations had with strangers turn out to be some of the most engaging. If you are not one of the sleep deprived: imagine. If you are a kindred spirit: relate.

I stood behind the other passengers, happy it wasn't a popular time of year to travel. There were less than a full plane of us as we filed through the gate. The line of day-lovers extended in front of me, with the few who had fallen asleep in the boarding area waiting behind. I smiled to myself as I realized almost everyone around me was planning on nabbing a pillow and losing consciousness as soon as they reached their cramped seat. It was like some wacky sleep-cult filing lemming-like into their over sized toothpaste tube hideout. I was the outsider along to observe. Not that I minded, I enjoy observing people, and watching them sleep allows for some lovely imagined life stories.

As soon as the cabin lights went down, I felt myself relax. I love flying, as uncomfortable as it can be. Being on a dark, quiet, uncrowded plane puts me in an incredibly satisfactory place. To my luck, there was only one other person (occupying the window seat) in my wing-view row. I'd been assigned the awkward middle seat, but everyone boarding behind me had already found their places closer to the front. My row-mate looked slightly familiar, but I brushed it off as I shifted around the crap in my knapsack so it would fit under the seat in front of me. (I always bring too many books, somehow thinking I'll read them all.) Relaxing into the awkward and uncomfortable seat, I glanced around and took in the rest of the cabin. There were a few other rows with an empty seat as well.

I was amused, watching my fellow travelers as they struggled to fall asleep, ignoring the now very familiar 'in case of emergency' announcements to focus upon the faint strains of Bach coming through the earbuds of the oddly familiar man seated beside me. My brain told me I should recognize this burnette, but he was facing hte window and I couldn't see his face. I donned giant headphones of my own and tried not to dance too much as I played my playlist of lesser-known poppy dance music.


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I turned the beginning into lyrics, although they need a bit of work

Late at JFK, travels will begin
Lemmings most, Owl in their midst
Indistinguishable from the rest

Lemmings wait their turn to claim a spot
Owl waits, wide-eyed, to observe

Herded into this tube
Five midnight hours to pass

Lemmings collapse onto high-tech pillows
Owl squirms into near-comfort

Herded into this tube
Five midnight hours to pass

Lemmings know nothing that happens
Owl sits, working through stories

Herded into this tube
Five midnight hours to pass

Visual music flashes and echoes
Owl stares straight, entranced peripherally

Herded into this tube
Five midnight hours to pass

Lemmings awake only at the very end
Owl, she smiles and leaves
Content with her imagined pasts