Up in the clouds…

The man next to me has not finished his lunch. I am thinking what a waste. I am still hungry. The woman next to him has not done much justice to her food either. Agony. I look away and take in the awesome palatial masses of white vapour around me. They rise majestically out of nothing into each other and go on and on and on- Deathly still as if plotting silently, the thunderstorm of the century.

Someone behind me is talking about problems with his wife and asking for advice from a woman he has just met. Someone else is saying proudly, “I played at HIFA last week. At the 7 Arts. Nice place. I am on my way back to Oslo.”

The clouds are all of a sudden moving really fast in a direction opposite to ours. Flying by in wisps that envelope us. Then we break through them and I see their shadow on the ground far below and I notice that they are stationery. The shadows are not moving. That means the clouds are not moving either. It is us- in our impatience to make the next landing, to make the next connection, to get to the next destination- that are screaming through the atmosphere.

When we land three buses promptly arrive and ferry us to the terminal building.

Wow. O.R. Tambo is looking brand spanking new. Not as I remember it. Shining tiles and clear flatscreen signboards everywhere. Carousel one to six in this section. Brand new rubber for the luggage to ride on. Fifteen minutes of waiting and then the bags start to come.

The South Africans have outdone themselves here. This is awesome. I am taken. This place is many times magnified in every single way.

I just wish they wouldn’t open so many suitcases and take stuff without people’s permission. That is so not nice JZ.

The one thing left is that…

Written by fungaijames on May 6th, 2009 with comments disabled.
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