Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
'No,' I said, feeling the tears well up.
When we drove to the skiway, rays of the butterscotch light of late summer were shining through
the stratocumulus. We were travelling on a C-141 Starlifter, and it had taken off for what the pilot
described as a 'test run'. At four o'clock in the morning, after being handed our bagged meals,
we boarded the matt grey, windowless plane. We wedged ourselves in, and the man opposite me
fished out a battered copy of Aristotle's
Poetics
. The crew retired behind the cargo. It was very
hot, and the most exciting moment of the journey was when a Kiwi stripped to his bare chest. I
opened my brown bag. The chocolate pudding was there, but at least my last round of American
sandwiches weren't filled with peanut butter and jelly.
