Below are three thoughts I was thinking before I boarded this aircraft that I hope will deliver me safely from Austin, Texas to San Francisco, California.
- I set my bags down on the floor of the airport restroom a little while ago and then had to touch them more than I wanted to whilst stuffing them into the overhead compartment just now and I truly believe that if air travel doesn't kill me, scurvy will.
- After much internal debate I've come to the conclusion that if had to choose one Emma Stone/Ryan Gosling movie to watch on a loop for the rest of my life it would not be La La Land but Crazy, Stupid, Love.
- I sometimes wonder if relatives who passed away when I was young would recognize me now, not just how I look but what I'm like as a person, and my favorite passage from Ann Packer’s Swim Back to Me, which I finished in the airport this afternoon, reminds me of that.
Sometimes when I'm out for a run, or just kicking a soccer ball with my kids, I think my father, if he were still here, would not recognize me. He would see that I was his son, he would see that I was Richard—but he wouldn't be able to make any kind of sense of me as a middle-aged man.
Airplane Drunk Corey contains multitudes.