Like A Little Jump

Sitting outside a mall in Pudong.  The prospect is an offline education chain.  They were willing to meet on Saturday morning, so I stayed the night.  A representative from the company I’d just visited was handing out free umbrellas to the parents with kids who were leaving the mall.  I watched as one young woman proceeded along with a little girl in hand.  She politely, firmly deflected the persistent man with the umbrellas. When her daughter, who I’d guess was between two and three years old reached the pavement she did a puddle jump and then reached for her mom’s hand.  It looked, suddenly, like a little jump my older daughter might have once made.  Pure joy, budding confidence.  That same daughter once yelled out with joy one day when I returned home from work, and climbed the long flight of stairs up to see her.  She screamed aloud with unfiltered joy.  My mom was visiting and standing there beside her commented that I ought to enjoy it.  It was temporal.  Don’t expect that when your little girls turn to ladies. She was right. 

Pulling up to Hong Qiao airport.  I ought to make my plane.  A Saturday plane back up to Beijing.  We’ll see if it’s delayed as there has been some rain.  I ought put my computer away.  It’s time to leave the cab now. 

Later on a green chair all the way out at Gate 21.  The plane arrived late.  But it’s here.  Boarding and I think it is the first time I noticed today that the ground staff actually checked to see if the people in the gold card line were valid.  Normally it’s just a scrum.  The lady in front of me was directed elsewhere.  Sitting now in 35J.  It’s all the way in the back but at least it’s an aisle seat.  Sooner or later someone will take the window.  They have come.  The woman in the middle picked up the same plastic wrapped free magazine on the way into the plane.   She doesn’t realize that I have already stuffed my plastic in to the pocket in front of her.

I’m considering kicking off my shoes.  My feet feel stuffy.  Their laced up into leather shoes that offer great support but are that much more work to get on and off then loafers that I’d otherwise have discarded by now.  The steward is handing out blankets.  Not that I am the greatest arbiter of these things, but Chinese stewards rarely strike one as gay.  I’m playing out the debate in my mind that someone might push back at me with to say that this is because Chinese stewards are just more repressed and closeted and what do you care anyway that someone appears to have one sexual orientation or another?  Yeah.  Keep your observations to yourself. 

We’re pulling back.  Fortunately, the rain hasn’t stopped us.  The tarmac looks sad, with its film of rain.  The steward and then the stewardess have just told me that I need to close my laptop.  I am all the way in the back and I am assuming I can ignore them until one or the other returns and sees me here in flagrant violation.   “The security team leader” is making the recorded announcement in an Australian accent that outlines all the ways you’ll be punished if you do bad things mid-flight.   My eyes are heavy. I think I will rest soon.  Later perhaps I may have more so say.    

Saturday, 8/25/18