Hangout Review
Flying From Chicago to San Francisco
February 19, 2005
As I got off the train there was a jolt of pain under my ribcage on the left side. I started wondering about tooth decay. Could an infection in my mouth give me chest pains? How long would such an infection need to incubate? Would I feel pain in my mouth first or my chest? Momentarily wrapped up this way, I tripped on one of the steps leading out of the subway and into the airport. Chicago is a sister city to Moscow. The motorized walkways were clogged but it was quiet. I made my way to check-in and then did so electronically. It was exhilarating. The security line was long and serpentine. The security guards seemed lackadaisical in the way they continually redirected people in different directions, thusly severing our sad snake. One man asked if the line was going to Boston. I took off my belt and jackets. I pulled my laptop out of its case. I piled all of my shit up and sent it into the machine. On the other side I bought coffee. There was a long line to get to the Starbucks. The man two people ahead of me ordered a latte and specifically asked for very little skim milk. The man behind him ordered a tall coffee and a strudel. The man behind me yelled at his companion when she asked what kind of scones they had. -I can’t see them, he barked. I took my coffee through a subterranean tunnel leading to concourse C. Again, the motorized walkway was clogged. A woman was helping her daughter zip up her coat and a couple was trying to push past her. I proceeded to gate C23. There I watched CNN while one man slept and another spoke an Asian language into his mobile phone. There was a painfully drawn out press conference commemorating a visit to Thailand by two ex presidents. George Bush and Bill Clinton stood in awkward silence while the president of Thailand went on and on about the valiant efforts these pudgy old bastards have been making in aiding relief to the flooded areas. Then he droned some about the beautiful relationship between Thailand and the US. Very painful. About the same time that Bush was adding his spare change, I realized I was at the wrong gate and walked over to C25. It was a livelier gate. We were all waiting for a flight to San Francisco together. I took a seat in the middle of the terminal. I sat next to quiet man. I couldn’t tell if he was Arab or Mexican. I saw a young girl in plush pink slippers. They were very conspicuous, but also looked comfortable. I imagined her sleeping well on her flight. There was another woman moving through the terminal with a very short torso and very long legs. Her legs were only long for her body. They were not long in respect to many of the other legs in the terminal as she was only about five feet tall. Many of her inches were due to a rather sinister pair of stiletto heels that were poking out of her jeans. She lifted her legs high in to the air with each step, moving exactly like a stork. The flight to San Francisco was overbooked and the airline employees were trying to get a few passengers to switch flights. People began crowding around the gate. Many were grumbling. The woman in front of me had thick tufts of hair on the backs of her arms. She looked much like a considerate old zoo-chimp. There were two small women behind me speaking in French. The more talkative one gestured with her hands while she spoke. After a small eternity, the plane began boarding. First class passengers went first; then frequent fliers; then we swine unwilling or unable purchase the extra leg room and gauzy courtesies that come with it. Moving to row 27 was slow going. I helped a woman hoist her bag into the overhead compartment. Mine was a window seat next to two preteen-aged girls. Taking my set, I listened to a grouchy couple argue with the flight attendant over the placement of their unwieldy, wheeled carryon. -Can’t someone move their bag under their seat, demanded the bitch. -No one has to move their bag, said the flight attendant. The woman sighed for all to hear and curtly scanned the plane for some sort of sympathy with her mouth hanging open. The flight took off thirty minutes late, but the pilot said that he’d be taking some shortcuts to get us to our destination about fifteen minutes faster. Such shortcuts are difficult to visualize. United airlines proudly brews Starbucks coffee. Bagel sandwiches are available for purchase from flight attendants. They are available with cream cheese or ham and egg for a price of eight dollars. The in flight movie will be Sky Capitan and the World of Tomorrow. The monitor closest to me skips every few seconds. I don’t have headphones, but I see Gwenyth Paltrow and Jude Law puzzling over a little elephant in a pastry case. Now I have to pee.
