I already spouted off about United airlines this morning on Facebook, so I’ll restrain myself from detailing the offenses… But, just to briefly digress before getting to more important things like sunlight the quality of which inspires religious thoughts in me, I wanted to make fun of the number of special programs United has and also what benefits those special designations entitled certain patrons to.
There are, at the gate, two lines, one for business/elite/rich/frequent fliers/etc, and the other for economy class passengers. These lines are separated by the typical black cordons. But the first class/fancy-pants aisle was further demarcated with a little, red, not particularly nice, rug that reminded me of what they’d have on the floor in the galley at the back of the plane. As I heard the flight attendant mention several times over the P.A., members of at least four different special classes, and only those folks, were to walk over this 3 foot section of red rug. The “red carpet” as they referred to it. I also found it amusing that these fancy-pants clients got the same disdainful, apathetic, and occasionally outright rude service as everyone else; it was very democratic in that regard I suppose.
I usually fly with southwest. All their seats are the same. If you fly business you board first. But everyone moves through the same space, there aren’t 4 different special designations. There isn’t the quite so blatant desire to make certain people feel superior/inferior by physically separating the spaces that they occupy. I’m sure there are myriad examples of the opposite in our society and abroad, so it’s not that it surprises me- just that I’m not used to it. It was additionally amusing because the system was confusing to everyone and left them yelling at messy crowds of confused patrons to board in their proper groups. It sure was was some kind of glorious anarchy for such a hierarchically organized system though…a glorious anarchy I would have laughed more heartily at was I not already so pissed at how much United had already fucked up my day. Excuse this language, but really, incompetence has not only slowed my journey by 11.5 hours but has also caused me to miss my ride to Seward. Leaving me in the ANC airport at 1:30 am with no ride and no where to stay… boo.
BUT for now I’m sitting in the sun, facing a bright blue sky and I can already feel the good good energy of longer days and greeeeeeeeeeen for miles. There’s a song on right now that’s making me want to get my cowgirl boots on and go have some frontier scuffles in some whiskey smelling wooden saloon. Fresh and Open, these words feel like spaces to expand into, as millions of people drop away behind me, as miles pass, and as I get closer to a place made breathtakingly beautiful, dramatic, severe, and raw by the thunderous and proud decree of mountains, glaciers, rivers and a wild earth.
It’s almost six o’clock and it feels like noon, or like some other northern hour the likes of which don’t exist in the lower reaches of this country.
Quietly, I feel energized in this , transcendental…
I wasn’t sure what it would be like to go back to a place I spent so much time at in a different period of my life. Parties with good friends on dry riverbeds in permanent twilight, a raging fire going to match all the energy of our fiery youth, walking home under the pink and green hypnotic sky flows of the aurora borealis, being in wildness minutes out of town, the freedom, the music, the feeling of being unregulated, and of getting away with stuff… because what isn’t civilized is so much bigger than what is in Alaska…
My body already knows where I’m headed and a youth like excitement has begun to fill me… a part of me is going home, the part of me that got to live out youthful fantasies and wild dreams when I was sent to Alaska in my youth. The part of me that learned that life could be what I wanted or needed it to be, that I could have wonderful friends, that I could create a new life out of my own dreams. It opened my eyes and changed my world, and my consciousness, at such a critical time. Alaska still feels like that place of possibility to me. Alaska is magic!
My only hesitation is not a novel one; will I get along with all those folks who I haven’t spent time with since high school? I don’t drink like how I did in High School, and I don’t want to, will people feel judged? What will we have in common after life has traipsed us each in infinite different directions?
For the time being I don’t feel worried about any of it. I feel happy all over to be going to a place I didn’t know was a home to me until I began to feel it in my body today. I feel deeply grateful that I am at a place in my life to see and feel clearly that in spite of all of this home-ness, I will still be in this place in a new way… I will visit my beloved night sun sky and let myself be filled with new opalescent dreams of futures yet unlived, lives that call to be…