Time is Fleeting

Airplane trips have a way of making time stand still for me. Not so much the time measured by my watch or my aching knees, but more like the things outside the plane just suspend for a while in mid thought, word, dream, air. Sleep comes when it does with a whole world of ideas and thoughts about an exotic and very different world awaiting our arrival gurgling in sub-sub-conscience thought. The airline seems too desperate to balance service and intrusive annoyance, managing only to break sleep into one hour and fifteen minute segments. A new day starts in the middle of the night. With shades drawn, few even notice.