Notes from 3000 meters

I am currently a few thousand meters above Cranbrook, BC, moving faster than the speed of sound, and enjoying the way the slow sinking western sun is reflecting off of the Rocky Mountains. That’s right, I am on an airplane (seat 16F, a window beside the emergency exit), heading back to Montreal - my home away from home.

I don’t really get the whole "flying" thing. My semi-functional brain has yet to fully comprehend how it is possible for a one-hundred ton mix of steal, rubber, fuel, and flesh can hurl through the atmosphere at 400 km/hour, and then I can walk away intact with little more than a small jet-lag haziness and a minor case of flatulence. It is a miracle that shan’t cease to amaze me.

Some people love flying; I however accept my inevitable death each time I am sitting on the tarmac waiting for take-off. Usually, I take stock of my life, my family, and my dreams, and then take a deep breath and say, “well I didn’t get to drop acid while walking barefoot through India… but it’s been a good 25 years”. Twenty minutes later, after checking my pulse and reminding myself of my student loan debt, the pain of life sinks back in and I realize that indeed I am still alive. As such, you have been graced with/subjected to another rambling blog.



I am, however, a lover of airports: the hustle, the bustle, the bittersweet goodbyes, and the excitement of arriving. Often, I will show up early just to watch people coming and going, to wander through the bookshops, and to treat myself to a fine airport dining experience. “Today’s Special” was the Swiss Vegetarian soy-burger, served with lightly seasoned Yukon potatoes, and a carbonized cane-sugar lemon water (aka: Combo #7 with Sprite at A&W’s). Airports are a place of transition, and I love the thought of thousands of people randomly being in the same place, at the same time.

It is combination of souls that will exist only for a moment in eternity…

* * * *
(Three minutes later, after a quick trip to the lavatory…)

Have you ever wondered what happens to the urine when you flush in an airplane? The sound kind of freaks me out, like it’s being sucked out into the sky. Hmmm… just something to think about.


* * * *

So this morning I was a west-coaster, I went jogging around Vancouver’s Stanley Park, and then topped off with a fresh-fruit smoothie. Tonight I will become, again, un Montrealais, sip red wine on my rooftop overlooking “the Main”, and perhaps sing a slow movin’ country song. I am lucky to be a transnational Canadian, that I am able to enjoy the best of two great worlds.

So even if this plane should go down in a great inferno over a Great Lake, I will be grateful that I have had the time to see family, to be romantic, to have adventure, and to know that I have urinated on some of the highest mountains in the world.



Good-bye BC, I’ll see you soon.