The wall in the clouds

I simply love the take-off. The plane stops at the beginning of the flight strip, I imagine instantly the multitude of buttons of different colours in the pilot’s cabin, which makes you think of a Star Trek episode (I saw only 2 of them in my life and only by accident), only this ones you really have to know well.
The sudden high speed sticks you to your seat and then you start asking yourself when?…now?…now?…now? I never guessed. We always took off at the moment when I started to focus more on the speed, or sound, or the natural peacefullness of the passanger next to me, in this case a cheerful german.
I start smiling. Have no idea why. I like the sensation, I have to admit, but I do aknowledge that this is not the reason. Maybe I got contaminated from my neighbour, or (I’m tempted to lie to myself), he did from me.
We estrange rapidly and apparently surely from the ground. My neighbour is picking his nose, making small balls and throwing them on the floor, between me and him, like he intends to build a german wall between us from his apparently very distubring snots, since the spacial proximity of my flowerish shoes and (let me take a look) his mountain boots was not taken into consideration.
Anyway, the man reads…so I have forgiven him, my shoes never. I stare discreetly. He is reading “Voodoo History”, my shoes become exponencially more interested.
Let’s get back to the take-off. I never succeed at identifying my house, building, district, car, streets (which name I never remember, because I am just not interested). The houses become tiny, that’s the moment when I realize why are the sky people so frightening – because they can see our smallness.
We reach the clouds. My german neighbour sleeps with his book in his hand, his cleaned nose is tempted second by second to invade the space of the historical art of voodoo. I ask myself, how come the book didn’t fall yet? Maybe it’s beceause of the coulds, they make it float.
We pass the clouds. The sun is appearing, enlightening exactly my window. I take it as a divine sign, “I’m a special person” I think and start smiling again. This time for a known reason. I am hot. My palms start to sweat, I wipe them off, not at all discreetly, over my balck pants…I guess we passed the discreet line at the foundation of the german wall.
You won’t believe this, he woke up! He starts reading again. Mostly trying than succeeding. A sort of a preparation for a really heavy sleep. I bet he will fall, hopefully, on the book and not on my shoulder which still hurts from my monster backpack.
I detected a polar bear in one cloud. I bet he’s happy. He is.
I dropped my book on the floor. Big mistake. My neighbour germanish manner smiled at me…oh, well, so the wall didn’t reach the mouth level, yet.
I don’t have a watch and on the plane I am not capable of aproximating time…I guess you could say that I spend my entire life in a plane if you knew me.
The clouds remind me of snow, the snow reminds me of cold, I better not look at them. Anyway they are too many to be counted up.
I’m hungry, I could eat anything, anything for free. I never understood why are the prices so high in the plane, to give you the impression that the food tastes better or because they want to prive you from your principles? I’m taking it too far, I’m sure the explanation is simple and stupid, but i can only reach it through complicated eliminations.
How much time is left? Should I ask my neighbour? I don’t think so, I’m too afraid to wake him up from reading. I look fugitively around, too many people that are going bald on this plane. If we would crash successfully, we would die suffocated by hair or snots. I would pick the snots, I use to eat them as a child. Many do. Yet, the sensation of the hair in your mouth…I’m sure the chinese used it as a torture and many betrayed their countries from it.
The stewardess has incredibly white teeth, a mouth like that can convince you of anything.
My neighbour woke up and is insisting on building the wall. If we crash successfully, I’m never getting out of here.
It’s an extremely dense fog outside (how strange “outside” sounds in here, it’s always an approximated one). It’s like we’re in the water. How would a flying submarine look like, or a plane diving? The submarine sounds more plausible, but boring. Maybe if there would really be one, it would be fascinating.
I wonder: how peaceful plane constructors sleep at night? In my opinnion these are the only people that can’t allow themselves to be lazy at work. They have to check a lot (I tried to find a number, but 10 is too small and one thousand is too big, I got lost in between, so I stick at “a lot”) of times to make sure everything is perfect. Here perfection must exist. I bet it’s really hard to be a wife of a plane constructor.
The sky is superb. Clouds of different shapes and sizes, at different hights, through a blue that makes you believe that you finally discovered the true blue colour. Throught the holes in upper clouds I see the inferior layer of clouds, which move to the opposite direction of the superior layer or the same direction as the plane; I wish there would be a supernatural explanation to it or some complicated physics explanation, but I presume it’s just an optical illusion. I shouldn’t look at them. Illusions don’t last long and I don’t want to be dissappointed. The imposibility of counting is enough for now.
I don’t want clouds anymore, I want food and an extra leg room, but both of them cost ten times more here, in the clouds. The constructor of the wall, my neighbour, is smiling. What did he do in Romania, I wonder. Doesn’t matter, I want to believe he’s happy and he loves his wife (he has a wedding ring) and she loves him and I hope they don’t have the same habbits.
The pilot is annoucing that we’re about to land. In a beaten black and blue English he gives us some local ground information and wishes us a “Happy Christmas!”. He sounds bored, I guess he’s not very passionate about the landing.
I have butterflies in my stomach. My palms are sweaty again and it has nothing to do with landing. It’s about the fact that I’m about to kiss…I missed so much the earthly stuff.
We’re landing. I always guess the “Now!”.