Cool Coconut #1
The plane ride to JFK was long. Julie was afraid to use the bathroom in the plane, not because she thought she would get sucked in or because she wasn’t sure just what happened to the … waste… after the toilet was flushed. Mostly she didn’t want to bother anyone to step over them to the hall or wait when she got there and she just knew that as soon as she got in the tiny room the pilot would turn on the ‘fasten seatbelt’ light.
To take her mind off the pressure in her bladder she looked around the plane. Julie had requested a window seat; she liked to watch the patchwork of farms and rivers the Midwest does best sprawled out below. She sat in awe when the plane flew over the larger bodies of water, not much of that stuff in Nebraska. To her left sat a group of Girl Scouts. She was traveling with them and, though she was embarrassed to tell her friends she was still in the group, she was excited they afforded her the chance to see The Big City (she never wanted to see a box of Thin Mints again).
Periodically the pilot would come over the loud speaker and announce their altitude, weather conditions, and the area they seemed to float slowly above. As they neared JFK, Julie committed herself to staring out the window again, to note the terrain and identify landmarks she had seen in movies and guidebooks. They must have circled the city for 45 minutes so there was no loss for time. Empire State Building… check… World Trade Center… check… Central Park… check… and to her right the Atlantic Ocean spread endless across the horizon. Julie couldn’t help but wonder how many bodies were dumped in the East River and if the Mob really did that sort of thing and if she would see any Mobsters and if she would even know if she did!
In the last five minutes of their long circle, Julie thought of home. The skylines there were usually broken only by grain elevators, water towers, and Wal-Marts. As Julie stared over the scenery she wondered where all the grain elevators were in New York. She saw none and was unable to conjure an image of one that made sense at all. They don’t just pop up next to Macy’s. Then she felt dumb; of course there weren’t any grain elevators here. They don’t farm in downtown Manhattan. At least not since the going rate for a future Metropolis was about $24 in beads.
To take her mind off the pressure in her bladder she looked around the plane. Julie had requested a window seat; she liked to watch the patchwork of farms and rivers the Midwest does best sprawled out below. She sat in awe when the plane flew over the larger bodies of water, not much of that stuff in Nebraska. To her left sat a group of Girl Scouts. She was traveling with them and, though she was embarrassed to tell her friends she was still in the group, she was excited they afforded her the chance to see The Big City (she never wanted to see a box of Thin Mints again).
Periodically the pilot would come over the loud speaker and announce their altitude, weather conditions, and the area they seemed to float slowly above. As they neared JFK, Julie committed herself to staring out the window again, to note the terrain and identify landmarks she had seen in movies and guidebooks. They must have circled the city for 45 minutes so there was no loss for time. Empire State Building… check… World Trade Center… check… Central Park… check… and to her right the Atlantic Ocean spread endless across the horizon. Julie couldn’t help but wonder how many bodies were dumped in the East River and if the Mob really did that sort of thing and if she would see any Mobsters and if she would even know if she did!
In the last five minutes of their long circle, Julie thought of home. The skylines there were usually broken only by grain elevators, water towers, and Wal-Marts. As Julie stared over the scenery she wondered where all the grain elevators were in New York. She saw none and was unable to conjure an image of one that made sense at all. They don’t just pop up next to Macy’s. Then she felt dumb; of course there weren’t any grain elevators here. They don’t farm in downtown Manhattan. At least not since the going rate for a future Metropolis was about $24 in beads.
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