I’m on a plane. I got myself a coffee. They have new coffee cups now — you can drink with the lid closed. There’s a fine mesh that lets the liquid in and out.
The man on my right is reading a book in Polish. The woman on my left is sleeping. The window shade is half closed. I closed it. The sun burned my pupils.
As we took off, we rose above the clouds. I filmed us flying above the clouds.
The man in front of me has very thin hair. Will mine be that thin too? Probably.
The boy in front to the left is watching a movie with the actor from Better Call Saul. A bit further ahead, there’s a boy wearing a backwards Puma cap. Cabin crew passes with a cart full of perfumes and other inedible things. Someone bought something. I’m surprised to see that.
The cabin crew girl has a round face. If it were a little rounder, she’d look like she was stung by a bee.
When I boarded, there was a wasp at the entrance. It was flying around, but didn’t come in. What if it had entered and hidden until takeoff, then started flying around the cabin? Would people panic?
People are standing up and taking things out of the overhead bins. The perfume cart has gone back.
The man on my right is still reading his Polish book. It’s thick and written in small print. I couldn’t read that much. Maybe it’s interesting. I don’t think it is.
A sunbeam from the half-closed shade falls on my hands. It’s warm and bright. Now it’s falling right on my phone. I can see all the fingerprints, scratches, and dust. I like my phone.
A child started crying. I wonder how much longer we’ll fly. We took off at 16:10. It’s been an hour. Probably half an hour left.
The first hour passed quickly. I want to AirDrop this note to Amanda, but she has it turned off. She put her phone in airplane mode. Amanda is responsible.
I can see her head a few rows ahead — it’s red, with her golden glasses. She bought something to eat. Probably supcik. She always gets supcik.
I got emotional for a second. Almost shed a tear. Half a tear.
The man on my right went to the bathroom. He left his book: Transplantologia kliniczna. Maybe he’s a doctor. He has a purple backpack.
I’m waiting for him to come back to see what he looks like. He’s back. About thirty. Has a beard. I’m thirty too, but still no beard.
I drank half my coffee. It’s good — for airplane coffee. I’m about to flip through the catalog of things I don’t intend to buy. I got bored of it quickly.
The captain started talking. It’s -50 degrees outside. We’ll arrive in half an hour. We’re at some hundreds of meters. I don’t get why he tells us the temperature and altitude. Maybe he’s like me — just says what he sees.
I’m starting to get a small migraine. Finished my coffee. I think these cups already have ground coffee inside — you just add water. Basically, it’s a mini French press.
The round-faced girl collected my cup. We’re starting to descend. When does landing actually start? When the plane begins to approach the ground? The seatbelt light is on. Cabin crew is getting ready.
The woman on my left woke up. She started flipping through the catalog. The catalog must not remain unflipped.
We move confidently toward the ground. We’ve gone below the clouds — it’s dull and gray. I can already see houses, roads, cars.
The guy who was watching the movie is getting messages now. We’ve touched down. He’s watching Instagram stories — pawn shops, iPhones, BMWs.
We’re taxiing toward the terminal. I waited for almost everyone to leave, then we went out too. It was an easy, fast flight.