That Flight: Strangelove and Snotboy & Lovergirl

That flight home from Montreal there was a two hour stopover in Calgary. I fell asleep, leaning far forward, forehead against the seat in front of me, and I had a dream, a nightmare of being anesthetized, like a patient etherized upon a table. In my dream I am connected to the people beside me in the row by tubes, our precious bodily fluids pumping in a circuit through the three of us. Our Purity of Essence makes us one…

When I’d arrived at the airport, I was told that I had a window seat, 23F. When I got to row 23, my rowmates were already seated, he sleeping in the aisle seat, and she sitting in the middle seat, awake and watchful.

He was a skinny, skinheaded boy, and looked a bit like a national front yob from Brixton. He was snoring gently, and his body was leaning forward slightly, head down, swaying gently to and fro. She was a First Nations girl, a bit older than he. She looked up, and I told her that I was their rowmate, and she reached over and pulled his head back so that I could get past.

He woke up a bit after I started to settle myself in my seat. Their eyes met, then their faces drew closer and met at the mouth, and they kissed, a deep, soulful, hungry, starving kiss. They traded more than a bit of spit, then he passed out again.

After take off, I looked over and saw that he was again leaning forward in his seat. He had a string of snot, a foot long, swinging to and fro like a
pendulum, hanging from his left nostril. It had an amplitude equal to that of his upper body which was swaying back and forth again. She saw me looking at the snot and stood up, squeezed past him. She walked away, then came back a few minutes later with some toilet tissue which she used to catch the string of snot mid swing. She swiped it up and wiped his nose for him. In the middle of this Snotboy woke up again, and when Lovergirl was done cleaning his nose for him, they kissed again.

Deeply. Then he fell back into a deep sleep. If he was awake they were kissing. If they weren’t kissing, he was passed out. Yum.

Breakfast arrived, and Lovergirl ate hers, keeping some of it for Snotboy.
She woke him, they kissed, then she fed him his breakfast and her leftovers. After
he finished eating there was another kiss. As deep and soulful as the others.

I like to sit in the aisle seat when flying, so while he was awake, I
suggested that he and I trade seats so that he could sleep undisturbed if I wanted to get up and walk around. They agreed, and we all got into the aisle and then back
into our row, him first. There was another kiss, then he passed out again…

During the stopover in Calgary I fell asleep leaning far forward, forehead against the seat in front of me, and
had a dream of being anesthetized, like a patient etherized
upon a table. In my dream I am connected to the people beside me in the
row by tubes, our precious bodily fluids pumping in a circuit
through the three of us. Our Purity of Essence makes us one.

In the dream, I believe that Snotboy and Lovergirl were planning suicide, and are planning to blow up the plane, taking all of us with them. In the dream, I sit up and shout, "No! I can’t be on this flight! Let me off! Let me off!" In real life I woke up with my fists in the air in panic.

When the plane stops in Vancouver I get out as quickly as I can. While waiting at the baggage carousel, I see Snotboy and Lovergirl again. I am surprised to see that they are not kissing. What they are doing is glaring at me as though I
have done something nasty, which leads me to wonder if I had been
talking in my sleep

Oh well, talking in my sleep is not so bad considering some of the things that people do in their sleep.

~ by thiscassandra on Friday 26 January 2007.

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