Tin Can Compression
Rattling in the oppressive tin can, with
recycled, filtered oxygen; the tin can
into the air -
My wife Jessica is busy taking pictures out of the window of the plane. She hates to fly, so finds something to occupy the time; she snaps digital pictures of the airplanes wing.
Fear and a baby cries, an old man coughs into his handkerchief, and I sit there asking myself,
“How long is the flight?
Next stop Dallas, let me look at the Dallas airport in American Way Magazine.
“Hmm Dallas looks like an easy to manage airport!?”
My wife continues to snap pictures of the wing of the American Airline’s plane.
“What if she takes a picture of a Gremlin… or a goose?
What if that Goose or Gremlin intends to take down this plane?
Are there even geese in San Francisco? I am just meat on a cargo plane. I wish I could open a window...but the crack in the window would be more stifling than sitting here cramped in my seat.”
A man in the seat ahead of mine leans back!
Captain Mitch announces on the intercom, “We have reached our cruising altitude…” The fasten seat belt sign becomes unlit.
Jessica asks, “Do you want to see the pictures I took?”I snap, “No! I mean, Yes dear, but let’s wait till we are sitting safely on the ground. I am afraid that one of your pictures may have a gremlin or a goose on it!”