Jasmine: Albuquerque to Oakland

38,000 feet up, or was that 3,800, I’m leaning towards the former, it makes more sense. Seven miles up. Clear blue sky, lower gravity, less air. A pressurized cabin keeping our souls safe from… who knows.

Airports and planes are inherently depressing. Or maybe they’re just boring… which depresses me. there’s nothing to do there but sit and wait for hours. Unless you brought something, or someone entertaining to do that is. You aren’t where you’re going yet, you’ve already left home and its security. There’s nothing. And I’m bored. Thus the writing.

Airport security isn’t what I thought it was. I got through in about 15 minutes including walking itme and staring at the board wondering which was my gate. Not realizing that the bag checker had written it on my ticket. I thought that it was supposed to take longer than that. I got here two whole hours before a different plane could take off from it I fumbled around. Bought myself some breakfast and caffeine. Stared at people. Then I realized I had my laptop with me. I watched supernatural’s season two finale. My name is Jasmine, and I’m an addict.

When I was younger, age eleven and under, my family traveled a lot. Not out of the country except once, but we still flew, a lot. I don’t remember it being nearly as boring as this is. Is that because my memory has faded out what isn’t worth remembering? Probably. But I also used to reed a minimum of one book per plane ride. Even now I have my book sitting there waiting for me to finish this blog. Andromeda Strain by Michael Crichton, may his lordship rest in peace. I’ve also brought some homework, but we’ll see if that happens at all. Fat chance. I’d rather watch the people on the plane than write out anthropology notes. Fuck anthropology notes.

I was in the B group for loading. What that means is 90 plus people got to sit on the plane before me and by the time I got here there were no window seats available. Disappointing. I like the watch the clouds. I’m a watcher. The council would have loved me and all my knowledge of demon lore. I also like ancient languages. Weird. But I cant stare out the window and watch the wings of the plane viciously plow through the fragile cloud fluff. So I sit here and watch the people.

Two other people in my row. Both male. One maybe watching me type this. If you are hi random person I don’t know. I’m getting the feeling that some school is having a kind of class trip, either from Albuquerque, California, or somewhere else entirely. No idea, but there are a lot of teenagers here. Most of them seem to have some kind of interesting piercing to make my watcher happy. The window seat male has and arc hanging from the front of his nose with little metal balls on the end. A blonde girl in front of me has a piece of metal through the back of her neck. I wonder if she likes electricity? The boy I’m sitting next to has no piercings that I can see… but eh lots of places I can’t see… He may or may not be affiliated with the school group. If he is his friends are sitting in another part of the plane or he doesn’t have any, because no one talks to him. he was reading a fizzix text book. One you guys might remember, long live the ill used Gianccolli. Miss that guy. Not really. Textbooks suck, the teacher actually talking to you is much better. Fizzix Rules!

A fat woman sitting in front of the blonde girl walked past me on the way to the bathroom. She smelled like shit, which I guess makes some kind of sense. She brought her baby on the plane with her and the kid wont shut its trap. Or it wouldn’t earlier, it seems quiet now, maybe she killed it. I understand its screaming though. The pressure changes and it doesn’t know how to equalize it, it was probably in pain. Poor baby. Poor us that suffer because we got up to early in the morning to survive this mess.

There is an adorable old couple to my left across the aisle. They held hands through the take off and now the old man is sleeping. At first I thought one or both of them were afraid to fly, but if you’re afraid to fly you don’t sleep on a plane no matter how old you are. Nope, not afraid, just very, very adorable. Still holding hands in their what, sixties, seventies. Awww.

The guy in front of me has his lap top open and is watching a horror movie. Maybe a zombie flick. It looked like it when I glanced at it the first time. A pale girl corpse with rotted out teeth hissing at the camera. The camera then proceeded to beat the corpse girl. Blood everywhere, then she lay still its better when they doo that. Corpse girls and crying babies. I don’t like them. kill. Kill.

I’m probably going to pull my lap top out soon so I can type this up an send it off at Oakland airport. The airport in Albuquerque had free wifi, all airports should be required to. Like starbuck’s, or a college campus, because they are exactly the same. Yes. It doesn’t have to be fast, but it should exist damn it. Please exist when I get there.

Anyways I’m bored and lonely. In just a few hours I will be neither, but for now I will complain. This is my first solo plane ride. No one to talk to. Fizzix boy put away his textbook and is now playing with his ipod. Lame. But hey I’m not initiating conversation either.

The turbulence just struck. Hate the world. Kind of fun, but I’m less enthused by this multi ton hunk of metla being held up in the sky by magic and imaginary numbers. Not afraid. I know the statistics and I still leave my dorm every other morning. I just remember enjoying this more when I was tiny. Ah to be young again. Wait, I’m only nineteen. Damn it. This doesn’t bode well. Hate the turbulence.