Monday, April 07, 2008
"perfect weather to fly..."
I stand alongside BibleMan because he seems to know where the doors will be. I’m prepared to overlook his devotion to Ezekiel if it means I get a seat. This morning I sit across the aisle and slightly behind him. He opens his bible, studies it for about 10 minutes and then moves on to the sports section of the Telegraph.
I glance at the woman sitting directly across from me – she’s at it too! She has a smaller, but equally well thumbed bible and appears absorbed in Deuteronomy. Is there something I should know about this train?
I’m reminded of the first time I ever flew.
A tiny, insubstantial plane from Manchester to London; 6 o’clock on a February morning.
Freezing, barely awake and apprehensive I sat down in the lounge and became aware that it was full of priests. At least a dozen of them. It was as though I’d fetched up in the middle of an episode of ‘Father Ted’, only before ‘Father Ted’ existed.
I figured it was probably a good sign, on the whole, in a hedging my bets, having it both ways kind of way. If the plane showed any inclination to plummet to the ground (and in the unlikely event of God existing) their combined prayer power would presumably counteract my non-believing.
The second time I flew was with Aeroflot. The third with Aeroflot during a thunderstorm. Flying hasn’t much troubled me since.
The Seldom Seen Kid - Elbow