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- After a turbulent flight we descend to Salt Lake. My eyes close - takeoffs are exciting, landings leave you feeling let down, abruptly. We’re still a ways up but suddenly we speed up and ascend. A failed landing. Too turbulent, they say. We circle a few times. This might be alarming but instead I fall asleep and start dreaming. SLC, I’ve been here before although I do not recall the trips, I just know I’ve been here - maybe even sat at this very table writing sad or joyous or highly intelligent things. In those days, those days of travel, those days when I didn’t eat, I almost enjoyed turning down food. Just water for me, thanks, I’d say. I’d walk through airports looking at the food and not getting anything. Now, if the flight hadn’t been so bumpy and they’d been able to have the full service for us, I’d have gotten a white wine and a coffee, and now I want to find a McDonald’s - I want a fricken Big Mac. I haven’t had a Big Mac in so long, and the last one I had gave me a terrible stomach ache, but who cares? I can do what I want. I dreamed three dreams while we were circling the airport - one about playing with the dogs with the puppy’s roommate, one about that flight, and one I don’t remember. Soon enough my brain will leave behind the life I live and I’ll start dreaming about other things.
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