Einstein asked himself: “What would the universe look like if I were riding on a beam of light?”

–SCO INTERNATIONAL AIRP… The mammoth lettering like a pale shadow, outlined on marble, as we pass under. How tall I wonder?

Lightning storms have been sweeping the Midwest since yesterday morning. Power is out in many cities. Interstates are closed at six points throughout the states of…

“Can you change the station, please?”

Hush now, don’t explaaain…

Reminds me. That dialogue I wanted to quote:

“I hear romance is coming back, Warren.”
“You know what’s coming back? Everything. Then it’s going away for good.”

What’s that from? The Context of No Context, George W.S. Trow. Yes. I wrote a note in the margin: the Zeitgeist: every day more geist, less zeit.

“Uh, thank you, it’s American. Yes, here. Thank you very much. Here you go.”

Sort of cute. Accent. I wonder where…? Never from here.

Swoop, swoosh. Door keeps moving. Don’t touch it, just move through. Just keep moving. Moving. It circles. You could just keep circling, never get there.

“Hello. Can you hear me? Can you hear me now? Hello, Marjorie?”

Eenie meenie, chili beanie
The spirits are about to speak
Are they friendly spirits?
Friendly? just listen…

This is a security reminder. Keep your bags under your control at all times.

Don’t let anyone touch your bag. Don’t let anyone look at your bag. Don’t speak to anyone about your bag. Don’t speak to anyone, period. For God’s sake, don’t let your bags get out of your control!! Just wait. In the waiting room. Sit. Wait.

“He’s got a build-up of fluid in the lungs. It’s too much to take out with the needle, or whatever, so he’s got to stay in the hospital. He’ll be there a few—a while. I don’t know… I don’t know that… Yeah. Okay… Yeah. Okay… Yes… No… ‘Bye.”

“And then I talked to Rebecca, and I sort of pre-sold her on what our thought process was, and she said Harold isn’t reviewing all the sales reports right now… What do you think? Do you think she gets along with Bob…? Is that what she told you…? Oh, she sent a voicemail out? About that…? I have no idea. I didn’t see anything in my box, no…”

“It was very sudden. No one expected it. The heart attack… Sixty-three, yes. Well, she had complained of being ill, but no one really took it seriously. She was always complaining, you know? Kind of a complainer. Famous for it. Everybody knew that. So nobody really listened to her anymore. Hadn’t for years. I certainly didn’t…”

“You got him. You got him. He’s wasted, mofo. Ha ha, yeah! Okay, that’s 500 points. Now you can go for game high…”

The doctor says I have a form of agoraphobia, but I am not so much afraid of open spaces as of the people in them. Trapped now. Delay posted: 1 hour. Storms. Midwest. Move? No point. Same everywhere.

Passenger Festeeejo. Passenger Fastijoo. Passenger Fes—tayjo. Please report to a white courtesy telephone. Please. Report.

“I’ll need a car for 11:40 pm… International, that’s right. What’s that? How much…? HOW much?”

Flight 345 to Denver is now boarding from Gate 36. We do appreciate your boarding cooperation. Please board only when your row has been called.

“We’re going now. We’re going now. Mom!! we’re going now.”

“I don’t know, I couldn’t he… I think they said they’re boarding from Row 36. Now.”

“Y que se hizo tu mamá? Que se hizo pués? Y porque no la cuidaste? Nos va a dejar el vuelo. Andáte pues, ya!”

“3869273346. Or 3869273349. When I’m in Houston it’s 7577439216.”

“Boarding passes out please. No, your identification is not necessary on this flight. Sir, only rows 25-30 are boarding now. Step back please. Back there. Back… Thank you.”

Ha. Safe. That guy tried to cut in front of me, but I stood my ground. Ha. Down the ramp. Through the little doorway. Nudged from behind—where’m I supposed to go? Nudge back, with intention. Don’t look around. Seat, here, sit down, don’t look around. Wait.


All right ladies and gentlemen, now we’re standing by for this fuel truck. As soon as that occurs, we’ll have more data.

An hour late and counting. Try to read maybe? Wall Street Journal someone left. Stocks plunge… Sky Mall. Ugly fountain made of pebbles. Golf bags.

All right, with the fat elbows, no more misterniceguy. I’m going to say something… You sweaty creep, did you pay for two seats? (That’s the smell of old booze. He’ll order a double gin and tonic as soon as the beverage service comes, if we ever get off the ground.)

Alcoholic, of course… and suddenly I’m not angry anymore.

I’m not aaangry, anymore!
I’m not aaangry, anymore!

Hey there hi there ho there you’re as welcome as can be…

Dream of arrival. Arrival. The conga drums slow, fade out, then the last chords of the horns blare up: ba-ba-baaa… Yes. The Prisoner wakes up in a strange room, exactly like his own room. His head hurts. The music slows to a hesitant crawl—a few anticipatory notes. Then he looks out the window and—

Ba-ba-BAA! He sees the Village… his prison, possibly forever. “You are Number Six.” And he says–

I hear the ruin of all space and time, shattered glass and toppling masonry…

Okay folks, it looks like they’ve given us clearance for departure. Please take your seats again and we’ll be off the ground as soon as…

Hell freezes over? No, we’re moving. And now–

Up, up. Away.

Airborne. Aloft. A lift. At last.