(Adapted from an earlier experience)

The other day, on a flight that I didn’t take from an airport yet to be built — I had an epiphany. I know epiphanies are deep things and all that but I felt it at 35,000 feet. Or somewhere like that. Here is a shortish account of it. Airports, aeroplanes and pretty things in blue and deep blue are very good for our momentum. Even for our moments, at times. They teach, you learn and the whole merry go round spins so beautifully it brings tears to the eyes of people who can only afford trains.

As the steel and fuel bird took off from the ground, I turned slightly to my right to notice this mascara painting. Beautifully framed on four sides by size zero Versace, bejewelled cell phone, a solitaire the size of a bull’s testicle and a Dilli accent that reminded me distinctly of crows mating. She cast no shadows and I immediately knew she had to be the famous Halter Ego — she was a celebrity in a personal sort of way. Maid servants adored her and drivers and gardeners often brought their hard feelings to her. She never disappointed any of them — the maids went away feeling more confident of kicking out their husbands, buying more Fair & Lovely and asking for Sundays off from their maalkins. And the drivers and gardeners, well let’s just say they came away softer after watching her on TV.

As you must have made out (interpreted) by now, Halter Ego was a big deal. Right now, she was getting deep, reading philosophy quotes with emojis on her WhatsApp screen. The light from the green screen lit up her cheekbones in such a halo of wisdom that it reminded me of the Buddha’s emaciated face, similarly glowing after his long walk out of starvation. I think at that point she burped but it could also have been the angels singing.

Ms Halter (called HE from now on for the sake of brayvity) however looked up self consciously, noticed me noticing her and quickly offered to sign something. When I politely shook the in flight magazine at her to communicate in the negative, she turned off the WhatsApp and deigned to get pally.

HE: Distance is dead. Long live distance.

I didn’t quite know who Distance was and thought keeping my silence was appropriate. She misunderstood.

HE: I will have some roasted organic peanuts and a blended juice. Would you care for some?

I was not really the caring type and felt silence will be the better option. She got really encouraged now.

HE: There are people all around me that look busy and in a hurry. Laptops, pads, pods, peas and all. Wonder where they are all going? Why are people so poor?

B21 (that’s me, motherfuckers): Yes, it will be printed on their boarding passes.

I chose to answer the easier question.

HE: Aah. Yes. Yes, of course. Have I not met you before somewhere? Some? Where?

B21: Nope.

HE: You look familiar. Excuse me.

I don’t know what she wanted me to excuse but I thought I must attempt to put her out of her misery.

B21: I used to be. At one point in time. But that time has now melted into a lump of Move’n pick.

HE: Yes of course. Of course. You see …

By then I couldn’t see much. It was too late. The beast was out.

B21: I see dead people. Slow, heavy and phlegmatic. Simian of bearing and full of sloth and cunning. Their hearts and stomachs nothing more than warehouses full of tomorrow’s misery. And they look busy. They look at their watches all the time. Their pathetic 16 hours a compendium of compromises.

HE was about to say something but got distracted. At this particular point in time, the air hostess who wasn’t there came within earshot and sight and hawked loudly — CHARITY. CUPCAKE. COLA.

HE: I will have one of each please. And some extra demerara on the charity.

AH (that’s the air hostess, lechers): Right away, ma’am. And if you buy the latest makeup kit you will get the free eyelashes from the makeawish foundation as well.

HE: Wow. Get me that too, girlie.

At this point I must have exhaled heavily because both HE and AH looked at me like I was a small jar of small pox. HE however broke the jar, ever the charmer.

HE: Would you like something to eat? They have some lovely cholesterol with triglycerides on the side. And some very, very rare lipids. It’s a full meal. You can eat your heart out.

AH: *smiles* That would be a small bypass. Please tender exact change *smiles*

Before I could answer, I saw some movement from the corner of my third eye. A large passenger with a grand belly gets up to relieve himself. He is gently admonished by no one for staring leeringly at AH.

HE: I saw some people at the other flight I was not taking. They were crammed up in their seats. Sort of like mice waiting for a grand scientific death in a laboratory jar. Their kneecaps enmeshed in the netted pocket at the back of the front seat. Rubbing against grubby magazines and barf bags. I am depressed. I want a Coke.

AH beat me to the draw.

AH: *smiles* Here is a can of the finest. Zero calories. That would be a few inches around the navel and a rotten molar in the future. Please tender exact change *smiles*

I was waiting patiently for my turn. But just as I was about to say something, the pilot came alive. Sounding like a moody donkey speaking through a mouthful of metal, he belted out some vintage mumble.

Pilot: Ladies and gentlemen. Boys and seagulls. Not to forget the transgenders, transformers, transmitters and the trance generation. This is your pie lout speaking from the flight dick. On behalf of the bankrupt kinky fissure airlines, I wank you for flying with us. I grope you are having a lovely flight and my lovely cabin crew led by Miss Lovely is taking good care of you.

My eardrums were warming up by then and I strained to hear the rest of the best.

Pilot: We are currently croozing at an all tea chewed of tut tee fie hundred feet a bow sea label and the temperature outside is my anus sixty nine degrees below butt freezing limits.

My eardrums were positively starting to goof off to keep themselves busy by now. Pilot was just settling in. After biting into some delightfully crackling deep fried static, he began again.

Pilot: We will soon begin our this end. Please fold your tray tables, hold your intentions and scold your bladders. In the event of a what-a-landing! safety jackets kept below your butts can be used for flirtation. Please don’t use them unless there is an emergency or else you will go to jail and there will be no safety net for your butt then. Cabin crew to prepare for landing.

At this last bit, AH got electrified. Very quickly, in much the same way that snails don’t, she crawled to the pee yay system and informed everyone about tray tables, overhead luggage, lavatories, life, airplanes, fire engines, her pink childhood and how on time is a wonder fool thing.

Lights were then dimmed as promised, my eardrums started bonking like rabbits on amphetamines and I couldn’t hear HE any more at all.