Friday, October 14, 2005

The Sixth Day of the Book Tour

On this day, I took the taxi to the airport, with the friendly driver, and flew to Toronto.
Flying is always the same, and always makes me want to write things down, like pregnancy does, record all the curious sensations and the flimsy sentences, like crosscheck please, but the same things happen over and over and over, so why write them down. There was a minor kerfuffle on the plane because a man had to have a window seat.
“I get allergic,” he said, “unless I have a window seat.”
The flight attendant spoke in a voice that was strident with contempt. “You get allergic,” she said, “if you don’t have a window seat? What do you mean you get allergic?”
The man gave a small helpless shrug.
“Do you mean you’re claustrophobic?” said the flight attendant, shrewdly. That surprised me. The man nodded quietly. But the flight attendant said, “There’s nothing we can do at this point.”


Post a Comment

<< Home