On top - a poem

Tilley was looking at a bird. 

He was jealous of birds. 

After six leg breaks, two snapped cruciate knee ligaments, three rotted out fibulas (one of the replacements rotted too), and worst of all one nasty ingrown toenail, all over the course of four painful years, the thought of flying seemed like a dream.

Also he was jealous of their feathers, they reminded him of tickling, tee he he.

But the flying was the real desire. 

A wish he'd wished for at every wishing well he'd seen since before he even noticed the developing second rot. 

And now. 

As he looked at this bird.

With his desire bubbling like a wishing well being boiled from a volcano below it (ultimately melting all those coins, what a waste. Who the hell digs a wishing well without first getting a full geological study done?). 

This wish miraculously came true. 

He could suddenly fly like an eagle, that had eaten an angel, that had been conceived in the jet-stream of bee. 

'Wow, ace' he thought as he soured over a majestic river leading to a beautiful deserted beach, 'this is going to make it easier to get to the Cathedral every afternoon to tell God off for never, ever, ever, EVER letting anything good happen to me, WAY easier' he thought. 

'Suck on that God, you cunt!' He screamed as he watched a pod of orcas swim by a previously undiscovered reef which was so vibrant it made the Great Barrier look like squished cockroach. 

Meanwhile the wife of the dead guy who'd provided him with two fresh, and one flawless, fibulas sat at home forlorn while STILL awaiting her thank-you card. 

She was soon giggling though.

Her new beau was ticking her with a feather. 

He'd just plucked it from her pet bird which had just died. 

But she didn't know that yet, so our ending remains cheerful.

Cheerful as a bee sitting proud on-top a bronzed eagle sculpted from melted coins, with a smile on its face, as it watches his bee mate sucking pollen from flowers, totally unaware that two angels are fornicating in its wake. 

Awww. 

Lessons from flying

Sitting in the middle seat between two strangers for my fourteen-hour flight from Los Angeles to 

Sydney in economy last night kind of sucked
 

I didn’t enjoy it when it was discovered that, after making a guy stand up, and a couple of other people move around, and then getting set up with my stuff under my seat, and books in ready, that it turned out I was in the wrong middle seat…

I wasn’t having fun when it then took me ten minutes, sitting on the floor next to the emergency exit, to find my boarding pass in the plastic bag medley that had become my carry on luggage (my lone flash of class) after I was forced to check mine for weight issues, all while feeling epically watched, and judged, and in the way, and moronic, while trying to find it…. ,

Joy did not wash over me when it then turned out someone else was in my actual middle seat…. and he was wearing noise canceling headphones so he couldn’t hear me asking him to move, and his eyes apparently didn't work… so I stood there for a few moments gesturing like a fool who got on the wrong plane….

Relief was had when I ended up just volunteering to take blind headphone guy’s seat, and the steward agreed I could, and then we took off and the food came, and was surprisingly good, even after my first choice ran out before I could get to it, so I demolished it….

While not having fun discovering that my new seats headphone jack didn’t work, so if I wanted to listen to a movie properly I’d have to switch back to my original seat, and you know put out a stranger in the wrong for my personal benefit, something I am incapable of doing….

Did I mention how classy my plastic bag carry on bag medley was yet?

In other news:

Crying baby right near me- check
Genuine death fearing turbulence - check
Epic long, long wait to for the turbulence to stop so I could eventually piss and ease my kidney ache - check

NyQuil time

Good result, decent amount of sleep, not sure how I fared during this time in my mission statement of: 'Don't make my seat partners pissed off they got me instead of who they should have gotten, that asshole behind me who actually seems really quiet and I don’t think has had to pee once'

I fared badly at this mission when I finally went to the toilet again after holding on for as long a freaking possible and they started breakfast service while I was in action, and started right in my area, which meant I couldn’t get to my seat until food had been put down, and I’d had to yell across my choice, and then had to make the guy who got the aisle seat get up holding his food tray and coffee, and headphones while I stumbled getting into my seat under my tray without spilling shit….

I decided to have a slight break from an insane need to not have strangers upset at me for very little, and instead stopped for a minute to fantasize about catching someone on the plane reading one of books and loving it, and reading sections to their seatmate because they couldn’t help but share it  - and I was in these fantasy clouds of joy when

'You ever r b’ said my aisle seat mate
'What?' I replied
'Be r?'
'What?
'Ben rrr a?'
'What? Oh oh oh oh have I been to Australia before? Yeah I’m from there actually, do you need any advice, um I ca….'
'NOOOO, I said DO .... YOU .... HAVE ... A PEN I CAN BORROW?'

Oh fuck I'm such a tool….

But then…. After ten minutes or so…. of feeling like a bad hearing loser… I hear to my right, from my window seatmate:

'Do you have a pen I can borrow?'

Yes, I heard him clearly, the FIRST TIME.

'No worries I replied'

I pulled out my pen, and handed it to him with zero embarrassment necessary - I've truly never felt prouder of myself! Joy!

And so I’m back in Sydney for a little while everyone, and kind of liking it so far. Flying is awesome.

And now a message from my pillow from this flight

‘Holy Christ this Dave guy drools, and I mean DROOLS, he fucking slept face down on me for hours, soaking me half way to the core, and then spinning me over to do the other side, it's not Christian, it’s disgusting, how can anyone possibly drool that much, how can anyone wake up, with a trail of drool from their pillow to their mouth, just wipe it across their face and go back to sleep again without caring about how fucking gross that was, and then sleep in the same way straight away again, KNOWING how much fucking drool was coming out. SICKENING. They should call him Droolie McDrool. I would NEVER want to sit next to that gross motherfucker on a plane'.