10-Line Tuesday

March 23, 2010

first the ticket, then the ride

It takes me weeks to settle on the flight. I consider first
the price, of course, and then the hour: should I pick the one
arriving just before dinner, or choose the red-eye, which will be quiet
but will offer little in the way of solid sleep. I finally settle on the time, but then
the din begins. Flight number. Airline. Seat selection. A kind of paralysis
clutches my fingers until they're frozen on the keyboard, but even frozen
the inaction spills, gooey, from the borders of the trip itself and the mess
of it hits everywhere, each step of mine stopped in tar, quagmired by indecision
until at last, one morning, I see the trip as trip alone. The details hardly matter.
The cautious plotting, twitchy worry, each feeble question mark - not talk, just chatter.