A brief intelude in which Nevol discovers the not-so-pleasing pleasure of travel by air...

The trip has begun, for better or worse, but honestly, being enclosed in a plane shaped box for hours on end must be bad for ones health. Surely.

       There are very few constants in life, and said few constants are neither bad nor good, it’s the situation in which they take action that determines the nature of the constant. Constants may be one thing and then another, but there’s always that primary rule- at some point, we all just wish constants would jump off something really tall, and land with a sickening thud. Hopefully dead, but if you can succeed in putting a constant out of commission, if only temporary, then do so.   It would seem that this is how the trip starts, constant after constant.
        First you wake up late. Well hell, okay on to the next constant. Then you burn your toast, stub your toe, and get reprimanded for using ’profane’ language in front of your mother. After all this, you’ve managed to make it to the airport, boarded, and successfully discovered yourself seated with Wills and someone far too talkative for your tastes on your other side. Or rather that’s how my constants occur.
       The flight was uneventful, unless you include the little kid three seats back eating six bags of airplane peanuts, and then proceeding to hack them up when altitude changed. Apparently that was his first time flying. The smell was atrocious but better then the smell of ‘feet’ resonating from a man across the isle, two seats over. They make medication for stuff like that now, I wonder if he knows?
      

       Little is to be said about airports, and they can often be summed up into the word annoying, so naturally boarding the connecting flight on the east coast was what one would describe as a chore. But we made it, I with my chilly-weather-appropriate clothing draped in my lap, and Wills with her tank top- this should be fun. We had left Colorado at five in the morning. At this point I should, by all accounts, be dozing for the last two hours of our flight. Shortly before the captain had announced estimated landing time and both Wills and I were surprised to hear the short amount of time remaining. I was of the distinct impression that we had not crossed the equator, that in fact to say, the water did not run down the sink in the opposite direction. So I find myself asking, why was the saying ‘time flies when you’re having fun’ running around in the opposite direction, was it perhaps because we were flying. To solve this conundrum I will have to have Wills opinion.
       “Are you barking mad? Or is it just because the altitude change is making you… weirder?” She replied, her eyes still closed in a futile attempt at sleep. We both were buzzing with excitement, minus the buzzing being of the un-buzzing sort. That role is left for market ladies gossiping with their butcher.
       “So you concur that it’s because we are aloft in the air, yes?” I know she wants to sleep, but unfortunately I missed the soccer (which I will begin calling Football, as I have promised myself, the minute we touch soil that is of the European kind) match for Manchester United on the tele for this flight, and I’ll be damned if I spend it sleeping. I don’t need sleep… eventually I will, but not just this hour.
       “I don’t have to sit here and take this, you know, I could just lock myself in the bathroom,” Wills can be a bit cranky, so it was to no surprise that she snapped her eyes open to glare at me, which was (I’ll admit) frightening as her head was turned roughly 50 degrees away from my own seat, “and once we land you can walk your a*s all the way there, whilst I drive on ahead.”
       “You’re going to check and make sure I don’t become mauled by raging herds of sheep? That’s really sweet Wills, almost unlike you,” I said, patting her arm before continuing, “fine, go to sleep. I’ll wake you when we descend to the landing strip. G’night.”
       I tussled her hair for good measure and allowed myself the pleasure of reclining further in my own seat. Which is not as pleasing as it sounds, as I am on a bloody airplane.
 

Author's Note

Very brief chapter.... sort of semi-chapter I suppose. Please excuse grammatical errors and spelling errors they will be fixed. Now on that note, penny for your thoughts? Nevol sure is kooky.

Reviews

[Owl]

Y'know, you have a really comfortable writing style.

I may need a second to understand what that means. It feels like, like you're guiding the reader through the page. Personally, I let the reader fend for themselves. But reading this, it's a welcome break.

I'm really enjoying this.

Oh, and as a side note - as someone who lives in the UK, sheep are the least of your worries.

:)