Like most armchair criminals, I never actually commit any crime. Traffic violations don’t count, and I shoplifted those Pokemon cards back when I was 11. But I already know how I’d commit the perfect murder, and I had a beautiful plan to hijack someone’s laptop charger.
However, 2 days on no sleep makes a man tired. All I ever managed to do with this computer was watch one episode of QAF. Not with a prepubescent child this time, but awkward nonetheless. I have an aisle seat.
Anyway, all I really wanted to do was sleep. But if you’ve ever tried to sleep in a chair too small for your body, in an aggravatingly light-and-sound polluted airplane cabin, sitting next to an old Chilean couple who can speak nothing in English besides “Get the fuck up out of your chair and let me pass; my swollen prostate is leaking again.”
I tossed, I turned, tried in vain to find a comfortable position. Feet up, feet down, spooning the old woman next to me, nothing worked. Pop 3 times the recommended dosage of sleeping pills, and top it off with sparking white wine. I felt like a classy old woman in the throes of attempted suicide, but no sleep came.
I would’ve thought listening to music would lull me to sleep. In retrospect, I don’t believe the White Stripes or Smashing Pumpkins are the best lullers. Instead, they just made me want to break things. Luckily, my overmedicated body prevented rapid movement.
But, I found my salvation. I put my faith in the son of God: Tom Petty. I should’ve suspected classic rock would put me to sleep, assuming its not Eric Clapton’s life electric version of Layla. My consciousness was sinking before he starting Free Fallin’. I may have only slept 6 hours, but I cherished every moment I wasn’t aware things existed to cherish. There’s no way I could’ve gone another whole day of no sleep without freefalling off a curb and into an oncoming bus.
In this way, Tom Petty saved me. At least for the moment, he is my personal Christ. I wouldn’t be surprised if he could turn water into wine. It can’t be that hard to transmute water; my neighbor is a real pro at turning it into piss.
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2 comments:
I think the suicidal old woman look could work for you, but you need a couple of ungrateful, money-grubbing children to fight over your pearls. Naturally, I'm volunteering.
If only there was a way to get around without massive long flights. It sounds like a nightmare...
"Pop 3 times the recommended dosage of sleeping pills, and top it off with sparking white wine."
Why does this sound like what I'll probably have for breakfast everyday in my 30s and 40s?
(Tis Hail, by the way - long time no MSN)
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