mental indigestion

C is for Come Fly with Me April 2, 2016

Come fly with me, let’s fly, let’s fly away
If you could use some exotic booze
There’s a bar in far Bombay
Come fly with me, let’s fly, let’s fly away

Come fly with me, let’s float down to Peru
In llama-land there’s a one-man band
And he’ll toot his flute for you
Come fly with me, let’s take off in the blue

Once I get you up there
Where the air is rarefied
We’ll just glide
Starry-eyed
Once I get you up there
I’ll be holding you so near
You may hear
Angels cheer, ’cause we’re together

Weather-wise, it’s such a lovely day
Just say the words and we’ll beat the birds
Back to Acapulco Bay
It is perfect for a flying honeymoon, they say
Come fly with me, let’s fly, let’s fly away
Once I get you up there
Where the air is rarefied
We’ll just glide
Starry-eyed
Once I get you up there
I’ll be holding you so near
You may hear
Angels cheer, ’cause we’re together

Weather-wise, it’s such a lovely day
If you say the word, we will beat those birds
Back to Acapulco Bay
It is perfect for a flying honeymoon, they say
Come fly with me, let’s fly
Pack up, let’s fly away

 

She was crying on the plane, alone. She always cried, there was something about leaving a place – any place – that brought upon this unspeakable sense of loss.

Perhaps she was crying about other things as well. The plane was the only space where she had time to process the backlog of unresolved issues in her life.

It was not that her life was particularly terrible. Her parents were healthy and not divorced, she had a job that allowed her to travel to exotic places but not too often to get weary of that, and she had a decent number of friends to be considered socially acceptable.

This time, however, she had not travelled for work. She had travelled to see if the Match.com guy whom she had been e-mailing and Skyping for several months might be someone she could fall in love with.

He was not someone she could fall in love with, but he had been a gracious tour guide who brought her to all the places he knew she’d like in his country.

The Match.com guy was really so lovely and attentive, if only falling in love could be a deliberate choice. He knew her well from their intense online interactions, so much better than even her closest friends. He knew on the first day they’d met in real life that they would not end up being together. They just lacked that chemistry that could only be verified in real life.

“At least we have made a friend, and as your friend, I do truly only want the best for you,” he said in his formal English as a second language.

37. She was 37 and far too old to be wasting her time with acquiring good male friends. She sighed as she dug around for a packet of tissue from her handbag, and realised she did not have any. She sighed again, but stop in mid-exhale when a hand hovered in front of her holding a stack of square paper napkins

“Miss, here you go.” The male steward with very white teeth flashed a smile.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, and looked out of the window so he would not see the snot dripping from her nose.

But the male steward did not go away. He proceeded to strap himself in the seat opposite her and continued smiling in this half-pitiful, half customer-service way. Awkward. For once in her life, she wished she had not gotten a front seat in an empty row.

“Is this about a guy?” he asked.

“What?”

“Your tears. Are they because of a guy?”

“No, no guy,” she replied a little too quickly and blew her nose.

There was another awkward pause as the pilot mumbled some information over the PA about the weather and flight duration.

“It’s not worth it.” The male steward was looking out of the window, so she wasn’t sure he was talking to her or himself.

“What?”

“Crying over love. It’s not worth it. You have a beautiful smile.” And then he smiled again.

Oh God. She hated this kind of bullshit that tried to pass off as flirting pleasantries.

“Really? You’re telling me I cannot cry? You’re tellling me how I am supposed to be feeling? You know nothing about my life and I’d appreciate it if you could just back off.”

“I’m very sorry, miss. Please, enjoy your flight.”

She ignored him and looked out of the window as the plane took off. This is the part where she usually stopped crying. When the buildings and trees began to resemble little dots, she would feel relief as she lifted away from ground-level realities. And then there were the soft, pillowly clouds, where she imagined Carebears would pop up at any moment to emit rainbows out of their tummies.

“The clouds are magical, aren’t they? Like they belong to heaven.”

Good God that steward was annoying.

“Don’t you have to serve lunch or something?”

“I’m sorry, Miss, I can’t do that yet as the seatbelt lights are still on.”

She rolled her eyes. He actually winked – that nerve!

Another pilot announcement came through. Something about turbulence for the next half an hour.

He laughed. And so did she.

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6 Responses to “C is for Come Fly with Me”

  1. Sharlene Says:

    Wait you’re already on C?! I haven’t even posted B yet!

  2. WoW you are on a roll with C. hehe!! I absolutely love this breezy and passionate poem…lyrical like the dance of a life time. Love the story, too:)

  3. mel Says:

    @sharlene: different time zones. and also, once C wakes up on Saturday, there goes the weekend heh.

  4. mel Says:

    @vishal: thanks – it’s actually a song; try playing the youtube video 🙂

  5. Ah, this is one of my favourite songs! 🙂

    Anna
    ATSP @ Deeply Shallow
    @natzers

  6. mel Says:

    @anna: My ultimate escapist song!


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