Death and Vacation.

My ears began popping as the plane drifted up and away from the paved runway and onward back home. I realized I could not hear the safety speech performed by the flight attendants but I assured myself I could figure it out. In the event of a crash, would I save the guy in the charcoal suit who keeps complaining about no cellphone use? Should I start forming alliances now? Confident I could untangle a bag of oxygen without the careless instruction of an air hostess, I searched for stimulation.

My thoughts drifted from methods of survival as I became enthralled with the Sky Mall magazine. A gallery of glow in the dark gadgets and dog brushes were at my fingertips. I contemplated how many Big Foot statues and laser pointers I needed. I wondered if anyone would notice if my microwave was also a radio as the guy behind me kicked the back of my chair.

I sipped silky wine in Napa and walked two miles uphill in San Francisco while I was away. There is something about the northern part of our Golden State that makes one feel so cultured and rebellious. Homeless hippies, fashion police, and embarrassing tourists all find a cause to live for in the bay area. There is just something in the air, the cleaner than LA air, that inspires political action and an appreciation for classy things like high-heels and used bookstores.

I locked myself in the underground garage of my dear friend's two story home the morning we were to leave for San Francisco. I was completely alone, minus the wiry little dog that kept following me around. My stomach imploded a little when the door locked behind me as I stood on the top of long wooden stairs. The tiny K-9 looked at me for instruction as I convinced myself that he would eventually bite/kill me. I began to forgive all those who had wronged me and prayed for forgiveness of those I had mistreated. I gently banged on the door without answer and then remembered garage doors usually open. I put pressure on a beige automatic tab and was immediately released from my killer dog dungeon. I congratulated myself for my survival skills on that weary morning while I popped airplane peanuts, which are always better than land peanuts.

As the backyard pools and helicopter pads became visible from my airplane window my travels had come to an end. My dreams of becoming a poet in Chinatown would have to be put to rest for now. Leisure and amusement are obligations while on vacation. In real life I had cars to drive and barbecue flavored pizza to serve. There is comfort in the known, predicable life, because crazy animals are less likely to trap me in a basement and methods of survival become interesting tidbits at dinner parties.