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Writer's pictureRod Campbell

Fuck Flights...

Man, fuck flights. 30,000 feet my ass. Give me the pavement any day or a slow lane ride in my ’91 Grand Wagoneer, which hasn't seen over the speed limit since forever. Flights, I endure them mostly. And it's not like I’m new; I’ve flown hundreds of times, dating back to high school and college, been overseas a bunch of times even, but the friendly skies just ain’t for me. They’re a part of my life now, though, as much as brushing my teeth—overbite and chipped tooth from an elbow by Tremaine Hawkins on the hoop court back in junior high. Hurt and bled for a minute, but never rotted, still as pearly as it ever was. Ole girl says it adds flavor to my smile. I just smiled. Ding.


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Speaking of ole girl, we almost lost each other. Segue, horrible, I know, so let me clear it up before I cause a four-alarm fire; her reading this for the first time along with my kids and the rest of my family... Ahem, our relationship is amazing, always has been, always will be, as far as I’m concerned. I don’t know life without her, and I don’t want to know it. We’re peace. If you know us, if you’ve been around us, that “thing” is evident, but the flights being my life now is her doing. Though I can't blame her entirely, as our adventurous daughter chose to go to school out of state, so, surely, she has to be held accountable as well. Geaux Tigers!


She’s blossoming, ole girl I mean, as I knew she would. Called it early, told her she could dominate in her space if she chose to give of herself. She’s dope, no question. So, as of today's date, she is in fact doing her thang within her space and taking flight, no pun intended. It’s amazing to see, and I’m proud of her, but, god damn it, her rise has taken us on more trips. Ha! What I do, I can really do from a laptop. Less a few meetings and that type, I’m at the house, comfortable, lounging, hustlin, enjoying. So if she has a conference here or there, based on her human trafficking work, I could just tag along, hang, be "us" on the road. But to do that we gotta fly. Damn.


They do say “absence makes the heart fonder,” but does it, really? Let's consider: Surely, I could say something like "Babe, I want to stay home and just chill'. I'm sure she wouldn't trip, especially when considering what my days consist of during the trips itself: picking her up and dropping her off at the conference headquarters and lounging in the room, working on my lap top, calling whatever audible I need to, business wise, right from here. The same thing I would be doing at home. Not to mention the conference site is always walking distant from where we stay, I'm talking 3 minutes. And, when she got home, as soon as I picked her up from the airport, we'd bask in whatever missing one another is, and repeat.



However, as stated, all I know is us together; the only feel I have is for us together. And if I challenge that by seeing if that other thing works, then I lose that thing that does work—all over a plane flight? Our "thing" is comfort. It's not about being all under each other, though we can and do, but we can also be in our big ole house, just the two of us, I'm upstairs and she's downstairs, each doing his or her respective thing. No problems, no worries, just respect for the other's headspace and what they may be trying to get done at a given time. The comfort is in knowing that other person is there and I can easily walk into their space and enjoy them without resistance. She can walk upstairs or I can walk downstairs and enjoy each's coco kind of flow. Easy, effortless, cool. If it's cool...

Being in the hotel room is like being upstairs at home. Being at the conference is like being downstairs at home. When I go pick her up, we share space. Easy, effortless, cool. R.O.C.K wit you, baby. I also recognize its the companionship and, let's just face it, I'm fun. Truly a burden, I assure you.



Do I want to go? We flying? Nah. But if she got a window seat and I got an aisle seat, on the right side of the plane because I had knee surgery on my left knee in college and I need that extra leg room, I’m there every time. I’m always down to hang with her. We're on a 4 hour flight right now, Chicago to Philadelphia. As I write this, turbulence been steady for the last 45 minutes. Glancing to the right, an open seat because of the mean mug that's ever present on my face while folks are boarding. Next to that room, a window seat: she's sleep, light snore can be heard at least one seat in all direction, less the one between us. Come on, as if the plane hasn't been rocking for like the past hour. I type slow up here. She's good. Me, reporting live to you from the sky, all while taking deep breaths, but the turbulence has been going for so long that I am now attempting to synchronize the deep breaths with the rocking of the plane. Making it, in effect, a game. You gotta find your peace somehow in these moments, mayne.


I was good though, slept some, watched that Martin and Will movie. It was cool; Martin seemed healthier. After becoming one with the turbulence, I can do this easy, I'm thinking. She’s trying to convince me to go to Africa, Ghana I think. Something about the passage way; trying to appeal to my sense of Blackness. I can smell it a mile a way, like her Auntie Blonde's red beans. Complete digress, surely, but I mean. Anyway, as far as the trip goes, might have to put my foot down, as I ain’t altogether ruling out the notion of my heart growing fonder from distance and space. I'm just saying.


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So yeah, maybe flights ain't my thing. Maybe I'd rather be on the open road with the windows down and the music up, cruising at my own pace. I'm lying, I don't even like to drive and long distance certainly doesn't suit me, but the point is being comfort because it's what has become you. For her, I'll endure the cramped seats, the recycled air, the crying babies, the turbulence. Because at the end of the day, it's not about where we are or how we get there; it's about being together, being comfort. Also, let me be honest, someone else is paying for it, she got some kind of grant or something, so to not go all over the place for free, I would be the fool and, surely, no one has ever mistaken me for a fool.


Who knows, maybe Africa won't be so bad. Maybe I'll find something there that I didn't even know I was looking for. Maybe the journey will be worth the discomfort. After all, life's about pushing boundaries, stepping out of comfort zones, and embracing new experiences, right? Nah, I ain't going. Ha! One Love

-Smirkface


BTW, we're bringing the DNPs of Color to Oakland, so if your interests lies in the nursing field at all please DO reach out.


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