This Shaobing is Wonky

Can’t complain too much when you get the whole economy row to yourself.  Well, there’s a young lady four seats down, but that’s all right.  A two-hour flight will be a time of great productivity.  The physical book is at the ready, for when we get the command to power off.  The laptop is humming, notes are being captured.  And then . . .

I border on narcoleptic as a default anyway.  But sit me in a seat on a plane and there isn’t much hope of remaining cogent. Something happens in those first few minutes after the plane’s door is closed, the engines begin to hum, the air is acclimatized, the computers are forced shut.  It is almost certain that I will begin to feel the pull of nod.  And when it’s nearly 9:00PM, and I’ve just eaten some last minute airport dinner, then certainly I will fall asleep. 

About ten to fifteen minutes later, something else happens, every single time.  I pop back up, sharply.  The drift-off never lasts for more than that time.   Something about the atmosphere or the announcements or the anxiety about missing the remarkable food that is about to be served, which summons me back to cogency, and it occurs to me slowly, that I have been asleep. 

I’ve room and I unfold my workspace so I can look at the text and type at the same time.  Up in the ears some driving hardbop to keep me working.  Roy Brooks from before he had a “spiritual name” and was driving “The Smart Set” with the Artistic Truth.  Air China is serving shaobing.  A fresh one might taste good with lots of baked sesame on the flaky crust, even though it ix properly a carbo-no-no.   This shaobing is wonky.  I nibble at it anyway, with my glass of Air China hot tea.