home, safe home

The wind whipped the plane as it raced down the strip like a train chortling through a tunnel. The engines howled with all their might. The plane gleamed white, flaps on the wings cutting against the sky as the mighty steel beast took a leap, stuttered and then fell down on the airstrip, still speeding. It tried again, and like a baby bird attempting to leap off, it was off. Soaring higher and higher and higher and higher. On a steep incline. People muttering their prayers to whatever they prayed in, or didn’t - in the interest of being inclusive. The phone was sparsely filled. The plane began to slowly lower itself to a horizontal plane and a small pattering of applause followed. It wasn’t audible, but there was the feeling that there was definitely a sigh of relief. Outside, the world was beautiful. Thirty thousand feet in the sky was definitely a peaceful place to be. And safe. Even, it seemed, when you were in the belly of a metal beast that weighed many tones and some of whose species crashed into Mother Earth below. Leaving pockmarks and craters that would soon be covered by growth. The people who had been a little on edge on the ground, those people began to relax. Looking around every corner for signs of it, they now seemed like the constant being on alert had taken its toll, they were still too hyped up to sleep, but they were relaxed. Almost as if drugged by the overly sanitized cabin air. They were going home! They were lucky. Some of the others could not. The ban would soon be in effect and then none could travel. No exceptions. They were safe. Or it was there. Just they would be home. And that was different. To face it abroad or to face it home. Really made a difference. The clouds were like soft wisps of cotton candy, the plane hovering above them. Up here, everything was still. Didn’t feel like they were moving, but for the steady hum of the engine. A great throbbing heart of the big metal beast that carried them in its bosom. The meal service began, now that they were not stressed, some of the passengers began to turn into normal versions of themselves: some good, some not so good. The latter were peering at the air hostesses, in their skin tight clothes, as they sashayed from one seat to the other. They could feel the unwelcome gazes, but what could they do. This was their job, this was the culture they lived in. It wasn’t right, but it was what it was. The speaker buzzed on, the pilot made an announcement. They were half done with their journey. Over the big blue ocean. They were going home. The relief in the eyes of some of the passengers was evident. They were going home. It was quiet in the cabin, almost as if there were pindrop silence. The sound was loud and so absurd that some of them didn’t believe it. Then it came again. A light cough. Some sniffles.