The "I Have Writers Block, But Need To Post Something To Convince People My Blog Isn't Dead (And Boy, Is This Going To Be A Long Title!)" Post

They say you are at your truest when you fear for your life.

"I'm gonna wet myself."
"Um. Ooookaaaay."
"You know, I've always wanted to die facing the ocean."

He was pale as a ghost, but then again, I was too, most probably.

"No.  But if you make it, I want you to be telling people how I got my dying wish, not that my last words were about how I was going to wet myself."

Higher and higher we went, my heart hammering with each inch we rose, the people down below now mere specks.

"I'm deathly afraid of heights."
"Really? Then this was a very poor decision, yeah?"
"I thought it would be fun, okay?"
"Been there, man. Been there."
"Oh yeah? Like when?"
"Right now. I might be more scared of heights than you, actually."

A lurch as we stopped.

"Tell my mother I love her."
"And if I don't make it, likewise."


Nothing prepares you for freefall.

We fell and fell and fell.

We screamed and screamed and screamed.

And then we stopped falling, and stop screaming.

My heart fell back from my throat, beating faster than ever.

I looked at him.

He looked at me. 

We laughed our faces off.

"One more round?"
"You sure, man?"
"Never been more sure in my life."
"You're gonna regret this.  We both are."
"Maybe. Maybe not. "

We got back on.

Climbing higher and higher again.

"I changed my mind. I'm getting off now."
"It's too late."
"..... to apologiiiiiiiize."

We fell.

We screamed.

We hit the ground.

We laughed.

"The sixth time was the best."
"You wouldn't know. You blacked out."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"... maybe a little."
"Can you believe we just did that eight times though?"
"Nope.  In one piece, that too."
"Wow.",  he agreed.

"Ta'aal ya Aboudi!"

He turned off into the distance. 

"Um, that would be my parents. I think we're leaving."
"Oh. Okay. See you around, then?"
"Yeah man. I guess so."

Jeremy was staring at me this entire time.

"The Saudi kid giving you a hard time?"
"Nah. He was a real nice guy actually. We bonded almost instantly. Weird."
"Really? What's his name?"
"No clue."
"No clue? You just sat on that ride about thirteen times with him."
"Eight. And yeah. No clue."

I never met him again.

Funny, isn't it? How you could meet someone who you would feel completely compatible with, and the next thing you know, they're just another memory in your head, one you cannot do anything about?

We were two tangential lines, never destined to meet again.

And yet, that one moment we did meet? 

Worth it

Everywhere I travel, tiny life. Single-serving sugar, single-serving cream, single pat of butter. The microwave Cordon Bleu hobby kit. Shampoo-conditioner combos, sample-packaged mouthwash, tiny bars of soap.

The people I meet on each flight?

They're single-serving friends.

1 comment:

RANDOMOSITY (is that a word?)