On Airplanes

People say that airports are liminal spaces, unreal in time and place, a lawless rule and the befuddlement of the soul.

But the airport is nothing to the airplane.

Airports are still of our world, our earth. W still hold connections, no matter how tenuous, to the outside. Family, friends, radio, restaurants and taxi cabs.

But on the airplane we have no one but each other.

The rules of earth are 30,000 feet below us, and we are moving together but separate in the skies. No one cares what you do on the airplane.

Screaming children are ignored.

We share food but not names.

A hierarchy is established via seating arrangement. Not just the separation of first class and mere human beings, but that of Aisle, Window, and Center.

Aisle is both the connection to the outside and it’s gatekeeper, no one passes save with Aisle’s approval.

Window is a mystic, gazing out on cloud cities and fog oceans, a chronicler of “Did you see that?” and “look!”

Center has less to fight for than Window, and less to lose than Aisle. They are the middle class.

Then in these planes that that have a third section of seats, a full row in the Center of the plane. We are a new order. No window, no walls to lean on. A whole subsection of Aisle, Center, Center, Aisle. But we have a higher chance of survival if something goes wrong. So watch the cities pass beneath us, Window. Enjoy the view. It’s only a matter of time.