So This Is How It Begins

The journey of 7000 miles begins at 4am with three alarm clocks, Confucius says. At least, he should have. Doreen made me coffee, made me smile, then drove me to the airport. I love that woman!

I climb aboard a puddle jumper. Grown men amble slowly down the aisle, the low ceiling forcing them to stoop and scrape their knuckles on the floor. Note to self: never grow tall.

We de-ice. We take off. We go up. We go down. It's so fast, I conclude that Stoughton must be the newest suburb of Milwaukee. I walk outside to get on another puddle jumper. Snowflakes cling to to my dark hair like an all-too-obvious scalp condition. I hope the heat is on in this plane before any one asks to take my photo.

Being a famous blogger is simply a burden I will have to bear. What will the adulation be like when my fan base explodes to seven followers and three friends, I wonder?

We are in the air now and I'm on my phone blogging. My kids marvel and mock that I can say so much about so little. "So many posts, and you're not even in Israel," they said. But such is the lot of the artist, the journalist. It is a lonely road, a desolate flight path.

This flight is to Newark. I have heard about Newark--its symphony orchestra, museums, culture. Maybe that was New York. They kind of sound the same when you say them fast with a kiwi accent. Now that I think about it, the only thing I've heard about Newark is there are lots of massive storage containers that will keep the EPA working nights through the year 2099.

But I'll hang out there so I can get to the airport early tomorrow for the mandatory TSA frisking and questions like, "How many prostheses are you carrying on your person today?"

[DISCLAIMER: The opinions expressed by the Kosher Kiwi are not endorsed by the Elders of Lakeview Church. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and due to lack of sleep]

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5