Trust me to make a fuss and to lose my head over a 10-hour+ flight. I’ve been fidgety as hell and I’m sure my boomer seatmate is already pissed off by how unsettled I am. I am not always like this, because I’m not always flying.
I think I’m terrified of flights, because in the last 4 hours, my exchanges (monologues mostly, some internal, and others external) have been along the lines of:
“Yes, we will crash!”
“No, we won’t, at least not now…maybe eventually.”
“Don’t say that too loud! You’re a Muslim and this white guy might think you actually want to crash this thing!!”
I’ve tried sleeping and failed miserably. It feels like one of those terrible tech start-ups that never gets off its feet. Except my sleeping attempts have had my feet off the ground in all directions. For circulation, see. If we were to write a function given a constant legroom (l) and a varying patience (p) and consideration threshold (c), I’d have to take off my sock off my left foot and put my bare foot on the arm rest of my right arm, which luckily is also the window, and crane my neck at a certain angle (a) in order to achieve a considerable amount of tranquillity to ensure sleep. All these mathematical equations…which, since everyone knows I’m bad at, have enabled me to successfully bomb all attempts at a good nap. Doha will see me snoring.
I’ve also just been extremely sceptical, and I remember saying, rather loudly for a sane human being, to my near empty sanitizer bottle:
“Really?? We have a pandemic, and now is when you feel the need to generously squeeze out of the bottle? Your brothers are out of the market! Do you consider, in your charitable endeavors, that you are now an endangered product?”
Speaking of being off the markets, my clean sock, which I improvised very well to make a face mask, now that we’re waiting for a new batch to fall from Mars, decided to fall on the floor.
“Mmmh…well, I guess, CheErS tO inHaLinG eVeRythInGG?!!!!”
I don’t usually rant this much, I promise. I try to be grateful. Which is why I’m redirecting all my energy to paper instead of literally ranting, which is a terrible argument by the way, but guys, can we focus here?
Uh-huh! Commercial Break. (In my head, if a commercial break was put in writing, it would look like this…)
I’m listening to Classical Music composed by a group of Arab girls…
ARABBB… && GIRLSSSS…..
Not Tchaikovsky, Not Beethoven, Not Vivaldi
They’re called SANDSTORM.!!!
And if that doesn’t make you smile, bruh??
END COMMERCIAL BREAK.
Back to Qatar 787, or whatever this plane is. I just came from a treasure hunt for my most prized possession and I’m sure this pissed off Mr. Thai-American boomer whose name I’d have known if we were at sea level. I’m much kinder at sea level. But I’m sure he understands.
See, I’ve had this golden-sphere hijab pin for more than two months; it’s the last of my pins, having lost its predecessor to the terrazzo floors of Dallas Fort-Worth Airport. I would be broken if this happened again. Once again, I apologize to the Thai-American teacher of English at River Kwai.
We had a smooth transition here, I promise…my editor cut it out.
Flashlights!! This trip has shone a couple of flashlights for me. First, I went all liberal arts scholar and DELIBERATELY watched an interview in Arabic on “Thinking in the Quran.” Imam Khomeini stuff and all. Then I watched a comedy special by Gary Gulman with a touch of mental health awareness that left me feeling like a proud mother, therapist, and member of the audience all at once. And an insight into Tupac’s theory of THUGLIFE.
Very random thought: this all reminds me of a movie I watched with my sister, ‘Collateral Beauty’, whose meaning I did not figure out until I Googled it at the very end of the movie. The collateral beauty amid this pandemic is surreal! First, I have time…I’d seriously forgotten what that meant. And my pen works!! I’m still that writer who writes about the most random things in the planet and experiences joy while I’m at it. I realized that a lack of rhyme in a poem can be just as beautiful as scheduled rhyme. And a lack of flow in an article does not necessarily mean a lack of meaning. That just because things don’t work out as planned doesn’t mean it’s all wrong. Any-who…too much cheese (Yes, I made this up because saying something is ‘too cheesy’ is the ghetto).
The rest of this article was an actual rant. The editor cut it out too!
Who even made her editor anyway??
I guess what I’m trying to say is the food here is whack, and I don’t know how to use Zoom for my online classes, but if this post which I wrote from 41020 feet high (which is why it sounds high) made you smile, I guess you just have a bad sense of humor.
But that’s okay. You have to be bad at something.
I’m bad at editing, and for those who are bad at joining dots, yes…I am the editor of this article.