Thoughts From an Airplane at 2 am, and Straight on Till Morning

I took a red eye to North Carolina. We departed Denver at 12:15 am. I normally pick an aisle seat for the leg room. This time I was optimistic that I'd be able to sleep on the plane, an infrequent occurrence for me. So, I chose a window seat instead. I thought to lean against the wall, and have enough support to relax my neck and back. Alas. I just don't fit in those seats, window or aisle.

I slept in fits and starts, no longer than ten minutes at a time, always waking with a paralyzing crick in my neck. I so wanted to sleep...and so I'd sit there, leaning against the wall, staring out of the window. I remember the haze and disorientation, brought about by my emotional state over XXXXX and the delirium of sleep depravation. I remember seeing many things in that half awake state that caused me both alarm and wonder. I remember wishing I could take out my computer right then, and write about what I saw, and how I felt. Too tired.

We arrived in Charlotte. I had three hours, so I found a piece of floor and passed out immediately. When I woke, the urge to write about what I had seen out the window was still quite strong, but I didn't have the presence of mind for a real entry, so instead I scribbled some lines in my notebook, things I hoped would remind me later on of what I had wanted to share.

I find this amusing, because my notes are a little strange. Here's what I wrote, with explanations to follow:

Thoughts From the Air Blog Post

• a blink away from sleep
• isolation
• red eye flights
• indigestion
• missing XXXXX
• too big for curvature of plane 
• lightning @ night w/ stars
• sun rise
• moon too bright
• glow of lights on ground through haze
• crick in the neck
• computer chips from the top
• other plane goes by
• sound + feel of the engines
• cell towers breaking above clouds so tall
• I'm so tall I can't see out the puddle jumper window
• sleeping on the floor of the airport

Some of these require no explanation, but others might be difficult to decipher. Too big for curvature of plane is referring to the fact that I'm too tall for when the wall starts to curve towards the ceiling, thereby forcing awkward neck/shoulder/head/wall angles. 

The glow of lights on the ground were very blury, seen through ultra-thin clouds in the haze of night, and made me feel like I was gazing into the depths of the ocean. The plane itself was under water, and faintly bioluminescent creatures were slowly floating by our vessel. It was a supremely peaceful sensation. I wished I could see the glowing lifeforms up close, fractal patterns of hidden life drifting through the dark.

Computer chips from the top refers to my observation that, from the right height and in the dim light of a sun not-quite-risen, the patchwork of rooftops and parking lots and lawns looks surprisingly similar to a circuit board. 

I can't for the life of me remember why I felt such a sense of Eureka! when that other plane flew right past us, not so far away, at 3 in the morning. What was the insight? Was it all imagined? I know I felt it; I can't recall why.

I do vividly remember the moon being absurdly bright, blindingly bright. For whatever reason, it didn't occur to me to close the shade.

But the two coolest parts of the flight were the cell towers and the lightning storm.

First, the cell towers. The sun still wasn't exactly "up," but it was bright enough to see almost normally from the window. Low clouds obscured the ground, so it was impossible to see how high we were. A grey and puffy ocean stretched below us, and I stared at the monochromatic nothingness, hoping my drool wasn't leaving permanent marks on the upholstery.  Suddenly, I could see a substantial portion of the top of three cell towers (I assume that's what they were), their red lights winking silently against the grey pre-morning. For whatever reason, the sight made me feel like I had been transported a thousand years in the future, that we were in a place reminiscent of Cloud City in Star Wars, and we'd land to find ourselves surrounded by hover cars, jet packs, and robots. Too see something so artificial poking so high in the sky, and be unable to see anything else...I find this very difficult to explain.

Second, the lightning storm. During that part of the flight, I could not see any clouds. It was too dark. But there were plenty of stars. The sensation of flying at the very ceiling of the world was quite strong. I saw a flash, and then more of them. And for ten minutes or so, we flew to the right of an enormous thunderhead. We were far from it. I don't know how far, but my hand in the window covered the parts of the storm I could see whenever the lightning came. Without the lightning, you'd never know it was there. Sky and cloud masked each other. It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen: an entire thunderstorm in the middle of the night, sitting with it at the same level in the sky, encapsulated by a clear view of the stars all around. I think it was the juxtaposition between completely clear sky and storm that touched me so deeply. How I long to have been able to take a picture. There is no way to do it justice. It was mesmerizing. Incredible. Defies description, truly, because what words do we have to explain that feeling of deep beauty and oneness that comes subtly upon us, and leaves us gaping?