I'm Normally Perfect (re-upload)

Chapter Thirty-Five

After I got on the small plane to Raleigh I remembered the sense of relief I'd felt the year before when the plane had taken off. This time I was aware on a cognitive level that I was going to be seeing someone I cared about (though I suddenly couldn't recall why I cared about her) but I wasn't excited in any tangible way. Neither my journal nor a book could hold my attention so I wound up alternately looking through the airplane magazine and staring out of the window at the clouds around us. When Manhattan came into view I recalled usually having a twinge of excitement at seeing the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty and the World Trade Centre, but this time it was simply a skyline. I attributed that to the fact that I'd seen it a few times before so it was no big deal. I observed that I was getting worldly. How novel.

I ate my sandwich at JFK because I seemed to recall liking the food on British Airways, as it was English food and I thought I liked that, and then I wandered about. As I had some time before my flight, I rode the moving sidewalk up one length and then went and rode it back one length to where I began, then sat in a restaurant with a bar that reminded me of the one on that show Cheers. I rang Alex when they called the first boarding call, just as we'd agreed. I didn't feel anything when she answered, 'Hello, love.'

'I'm getting on the plane now.'

'Okey dokey.'

Hey, she used my phrase, what do you know. 'So I'll see you at Heathrow at three.'

'All right...Is anything the matter?'

'Huh? Nope.' I asked in a cheery way, 'Is anything the matter with you?'

There was a pause before she said, 'No, you sound...a bit queer.'

'I slept too much yesterday, that's all.'

'All right, have a safe flight.' She didn't sound entirely convinced, but rang off anyway.

I watched the little cartoon plane make its way across the big blue ocean and watched the in flight movie without my earphones on because I'd seen The Prince of Tides before. The book had been really good. I'd read it for a book report when I was twelve, much to the utter bemusement of my teacher. Fried Green Tomatoes was my favourite Southern novel, besides To Kill a Mockingbird, which I'd read about five times already. For the most part, though, I didn't read books set in the American south, I lived there, I knew people were crazy. So I didn't need to read about it. Perhaps that's why I'd always loved English novels, because they had nothing to do with my real life, and that was pretty much my big requirement for reading material. How does that quote go? "Some people read to remember, and some people read to forget." I fall squarely into the latter category.

I like flying at night because when you land you get a whole day wherever you are, whereas if you land in the daytime you've missed part of your day. What I don't like about flying at night is the thought that there's a great big ocean down there beneath you, churning away, with fish that are bigger than your house. And it's dark. The darkest dark you can imagine. Because it's everywhere. Over and under you to eternity. It's incredible that you're going hundreds of miles an hour because it feels like you're immobile in this sea of black. I wonder what astronauts feel like? Looking out into space and knowing it goes on and on forever and they're so tiny in their little spaceship. That must be the creepiest thing ever. I bet they don't talk about it because they'd go insane if they thought about it for too long. Pardon my diversion, but when there's nothing on my mind any old thing is fascinating and nothing is interesting all at the same time.

After we landed I waited for everyone else to clear out before making my way down the corridor to the terminal. As I didn't have any checked luggage I strolled through customs, as soon as Alex saw me she stood and smiled. I knew I was probably supposed to feel immense joy or relief or anything at all, but I remained detached from myself. We embraced and made our way out to the car park amid the obligatory questions over the flight and the meal. I told her they played The Prince of Tides and rambled on about Southern novels for a bit, how Faulkner made me want to weep with boredom and how most classic American authors were boring as hell and why did they make kids read that stuff in school, 'You'd think they'd want to have them read things that would make them want to read more rather than make them want a kip. That's probably why no one in America likes to read, because they were bored senseless in school.' I stopped babbling and quietly watched the lights of London go by.