Jock's TravelBlog Because sometimes I go places

Somewhere over the US, Portland to Chicago

The air is dry aboard the plane, just like all plane. The movie is some uninteresting romantic comedy, but it's fairly entertaining if you listen to it in Spanish. The trick now is too fall into that self hypnotic zone where the time just passes. I'm not quite there, so you pass the time as you can. It's hard to peg the man sitting next to me. Most of the flight he has been asleep. Now he's awake, no longer interested in his book he is staring straight ahead and bouncing his leg so violently that I can feel it over the turbulence. It doesn't bother me, and I wouldn't bug him about it if it did. He seems nervous, and doesn't need me adding to it. I've sat next to worse.

The other passengers seem to be handling the flight better than him. Not many laptops out, so probably mostly personal travelers. They are quite, not many conversations to latch onto. The occasional word or phrase drifts by -- "I don't know," "He's bigger than that," "We'll call when she get there," etc. Not even enough to play the game of making up the story behind what you hear.

There will be time to kill when we hit Chicago. Not enough to leave the airport, that would have been nice. I have never been to Chicago. I have been through it, and over it, and by it, but I have never spent any actual time there worth speaking of. The airport is nice from what I can recall. The last time I was there was for my best friends emergency wedding (not quite what is sounds like, but host of a series of entertaining stories I hope to tell one day).

You want to think you will be productive on the plane, that you will get this project on that thing done. You try, you get some of it done, but it's a hard space to work in. I want to get over the creative hump and get started on my next novel, but it is getting mixed up with my thoughts about India. Who knows maybe that will work...