En Route

Going to New York in the morning. Hate flying. Me and everyone else. I always get this awful thought in my head when I take my seat that the face of the person sitting next to me will be the last one I ever see.

Watched Sugar tonight. Good film. Touching. Americans aren’t so bad, are they? We’re good to Dominican baseball players. At least the ones who throw over 95 and don’t fool with our white women, who want nothing more than to bring Jesus to their pagan souls.

Write every word like it’s your last.

What do I pack? I wish I had nicer clothes. My mother’s going to tell me how fat I am, whether I’m fat or not. My brother’s going to tell me how fat I am, same.

Do they show movies on planes anymore? I guess not. Hollywood movies got so bad no one would watch them anymore. Everyone just plugs into their little devices and entertains his or her self. No food either. You have to buy it. And pay for your luggage to fit under the plane. And pay for a headset so you can listen to this loop of music that comes in with static. Always that innocuous set of hits by U2 and Keith Urban. Or that awful music they play at the gym. And half the time the entertainment package isn’t working. They apologize for the inconvenience. Fuck your apology. I paid good money for this ticket, I want to hear those Goddamn U2 songs that I haven’t heard since I parked my car. Partial refund for the lack of in flight entertainment. Partial refund for the delay and the fact that my bag didn’t arrive at the airport when I did. Good luck. The customer is always right became the customer will always give in.

We’re good people, Americans. We just let it slip away. Got too greedy. Started to believe our own myths.