0093

Airplanes are such a liminal space. The sounds, smells, sights. The feeling of sitting in one space for 5 or 10 hours. Especially because time seems to pass so simultaneously fast and slow in an airplane. After the flight is over, it all seems like haze; probably because most flights are sandwiched in the hectic chaos of the trip and the thrill of getting home.

I can't believe I've been on eight separate flights in the past 2 weeks. It doesn't feel like eight - if I had to really think about it I could maybe clearly remember half of them. I guess that's a blessing, from the fact that I'm pretty good at sleeping on planes. Even in economy class. Actually, since I like to sleep by putting my head down on my lap sometimes even better in economy class when there's less legroom, since I can lean on the seat in front of me.

It's almost bizarre to think that I can't remember any of the people I sat next to. Even if I strain to remember I can maybe only visualize a vague side profile of their head. One that I was trying hard not to look to closely at, because inspecting your seatmate is pretty weird behaviour. It's hard to imagine people acting this in any kind of past travel but I guess that's a privelege afforded to us by modern travel technology. Ten hours is a long flight, but not so long you'd start making friends on the plane to stay sane.

After leaving Karachi, at my second layover before Karachi, I realized (through some casual eavesdropping) that there were quite a number of people also from CHicago there going to the same destination. I felt quite wistful to realize there were all these people going on the same parallel journies together without ever really interacting.

Experiencing the same two hour delay at the start, and then forced 4 hour delay plus deplaning on the last leg. Going on the same treks through each of the two layover airports at different times, unnoticed to each other. Probably getting food from the same restaurants, and maybe getting one last glimpse of each other in Karachi before never seeing each other again. I do definitely remember the characters at the luggage pick up, and associated them with the different places I saw them either roaming the airport or sitting in the plane. It's funny to think we might both be in Chicago now, we might even be near one another or cross paths but we'd never know.

The logistics behind modern aviation really are incredible. On every single one of those 8 flights I took, a team of dozens of staff and hundreds of support crew worked hard to make it possible for that plane to get in the air. I know the delays were especially annoying, but also unexpectedly calling an highly trained engineer to inspect the wing of a multi million dollar aircraft carrying hundreds of passengers within a couple hours is cool to me. And given this happens for millions of passengers everywhere, all the time, simultaneously, I can hardly complain.

I don't really mind bad seats on a plane. Even middle seats on ten hours flights are bearable for me, because luckily I've gotten good at sleeping even in those circumstances. The one thing I wish I'd sorted out, though, was more window seats. I can't believe how unimpressed people have become with the view of the world from 10 kilometers up. Even when they're not sleeping they keep the shades closed.

I would sneak glimpses of the view of the world down below from the emergency doors whenever I would go to the bathroom. Those were they only windows that were left open. In fact, I would get out of my seat on purpose just to take a stroll and enjoy the view. At one point the view of some kind of glacier formation somewhere over the Atlantic ocean was jaw dropping, but nobody seemed to care except for me. If others aren't appreciating the miracle of flight then I'll just have to grab myself a window seat next time.

I also think that in cases where you do have the opportunity to be at an airport, the departure and arrivals areas are so filled with emotions. So many incredible human experiences happening; people leaving behind their loved ones or getting the chance to see them again after a long time. I like taking the chance to linger in these parts of the airport whenever I have it. It's not often you find so much unrestrained displays of the human spirit concentrated in one place.

Something about the entire experience of travel feels like a dream. Did I just dream the past two weeks while resting, safe in Chicago? After all, I started and ended here, and the entire time in between was a bit of a blur. I was so chronically sleep deprived throughout the two weeks my perceptions and recollections of the trip were a bit dreamlike.

Much like a dream, I had little control over my movements. Events seemed to just happen to me, often with no volition of my own. Sometimes people seemed to act illogically, though perhaps this wasn't because I was in a dream and just because I wasn't fully tuned in to unspoken rules of Pakistani society. Even though Karachi can sometmes by a grey city, the colors even seemed more vivid; sometimes bleeding together in surreal fashion.

Now, the dream is over. I can vaguely remember what happened, but not too many specific details. All I know that anything could have happened in those two weeks. I could have gone anywhere, been anyone. Whatever might have happened, I don't think I can be held responsible. After all, if it was all a dream then I was practically asleep when everything happened.

When I got back to Chicago, I slept for over 12 hours. I hope that means I'm not dreaming anymore.