Flight plan.

Do not underestimate the power of flightbound steel. An airplane is no bad place to take a nap; sleep makes a long tarmac wait slip past so that you're awake for the flight itself.

Do not fret about luggage delay, even when you remember that time last April when the airline obviously transferred the bags of no one on your flight.

Love the sunlight. Love the buildings. You can be a real dip in the city, but you like that about yourself, and you're pretty sure you keep it quiet fairly well. Taking pictures from a moving bus: underrated.


Get where you're going. On your way there, see a man sitting centered in the sunny south-facing window of an apartment on 37th Street. He is on the second floor, squared to the window frame, in the sun, looking, just looking.

On your way there, see a boy wearing a t-shirt covered in turntables and boomboxes. See a girl wearing a plum-colored dress and a short black jacket. See the boy who tends to the girl, brushing and picking things from her jacket. See the sleeping man who wakes just enough to cough and cough and cough.

Get where you're going. Find yet another train there. Find the small boy who loves trains, and his parents. Let the small boy crash into the backs of your legs to give you a hug. Let him lean on you at a jaunty angle. Sing him a song about a bus. Tug his curls when he's not looking. Learn your ABCs all over again. Learn the sibilance of "slip," "sip," "sleep" in his favorite book. Learn yet again how to eat artichokes. Think of the trains you will feel in your sleep.