DULLES BOREDOM: NY, a mere hours away and yet excitement is substituted by a roiling stomach. Credit belongs to the ill-qualified pilot sending the plane on a jolting flight from Houston to Washington where I await my next flight in trepidation. Amusingly, that same anal-retentive pilot refused to open cabin doors until EVERYONE aboard submitted to sitting down and refastening seatbelts until "the pilot turns off the seatbelt sign!" Incidentally, the two previous flights have been spent reading and finishing Angels and Demons, courtesy of Dan Brown. With an inside insripion - "To the next reader: enjoy" - the artifact either sits on an unoccupied seat at Gate C28 at Dulles Airport or is in the possession of an appreciative reader. I Hope for the latter.
A girl sleeps by the window, most likely 18 or 19 years of age, with a garishly colored coat. However this red article of clothing involves a hood which currently consumes her upper torso and face, a seemingly biped blob of red paint on the black leather airport sofas. And that my friends conclude Dulles.
From the skies, the lights of metropolitan east coast stretches off into the night landscape - a network of spiderwebs tentatively sweeping out tendrils. I do belive the lyrics of New York ring through my mind..."new york, to that tall skyline i come. flying into from london. to your door...."