I once had a panic attack on a plane, so any of the other choices. This prompt reminds me of my first plane ride. Have at it.
O’hare
A plane ride to Iowa.
AmeriCorps awaits me.
I’m above the weather.
Under this plane’s roof.
Outside my window-
Metal, hardened water, snow.
A stranger wearing strappy heels
despite the elements.
We’re going to O’Hare, not Guadalajara.
Friendly.
She tells me about a life I will not be in.
A travel nurse.
We’ll part ways permanently once the ride is complete.
I wonder if the people I will soon meet
will be as bizarre and as benevolent as her.
I hope they will be perpetual fixtures in my life.
They will be people.
Not anecdotes at dinner parties.
“I made a difference once,
and met the most interesting blah-blah-blah.”
They will be wonderful, I wish.
Showering me with sunniness
as ceaseless as them.
These people are full of smoke.
Their hearts don’t beat until I get there.
I’m picturing smoke, not people.
Ideas full of smoke
I’m up high, feeling ancient but alive.
We are touching down.
A second passes and I’m on campus.
I’m amid my youth.
I see all the humans.
Smoke goes poof.