Red-Eye Flight to Washington, D.C.

Pfmmmpf! went the door. The engine started;

The “Fasten Seat Belts” signs were lit.

My screen showed emergency instructions.

I thought to myself, “Well, this is it!”

The plane shook as it rolled down the runway.

I gulped and curiously looked around.

With white knuckles I clutched the armrest

As the plane lifted up off the ground.

Holding my breath as we ascended,

I glanced out the window, and what do you know:

Houses, streets, and cars grew smaller

In the ever-shrinking world down below.

I wondered, “Has my Xanax kicked in yet?

Will it hurt to have ONE glass of wine?”

The plane leveled off; the flight attendant

Smiled and said, “Honey, you’re doing fine.”

The screen on the back of the seat in front of me

Displayed a map of our cross-country route.

If I sat there and watched that screen,

I knew that I was going to freak out.

Sleep? Forget it. How is that possible

With all of the vibrating, bouncing, and roaring,

And lights going on and off and overhead

Cabinets clicking and people snoring?

No leg-room for stretching my legs:

The dreadful curse of economy class.

The constant shifting around in my seat

Was a literal pain in the ass.

I tried in vain to get some sleep

With my book lying in my lap.

I'd peek at the screen. We'd moved only

A millimeter across the map.

I felt like Sisyphus pushing his rock;

The night seemed to have no end.

Finally, to my great relief,

Our plane started to descend.

“Yay!” We landed and rolled to a stop.

On leaving the plane, I felt signs of fall.

Breathing in the fresh air, I thought,

“That wasn’t so bad after all.”

I'd passed the test with flying colors—

Sort of. At least I wasn’t too frantic.

And as it turned out my very next flight

Was going to take me across the Atlantic.

(9-3-14) By Bob B