[Note: To begin this series with Entry #1, scroll down.].
The flight from LAX to London Heathrow was a little like taking your honeymoon in hell: the company was nice, but the accomodations were excruciating. Nature and my healthy appetite have conspired to give me the kind of body that is expressly not built for extended airline travel: very long legs and a wide waist. When the nice flight attendant tried to provide alternative seating for me, it was a choice between mismatches. I could sit in an exit aisle, which offered extra leg room but had rigid arm rests—the kind that can’t fold-up—which did not allow my wide hips to exploit the roomy advantage of a vacant seat beside me. Or, I could opt for a row with tuck-away arm rests but cramped leg room; if the passenger ahead tried to recline, I could tuck my feet under the seat and have his headrest in my lap, or just sit straight up and prevent the other seat from reclining, my knees tight against the seat in front.
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Thanks to the incredible kindness and patience of the Virgin Atlantic crew (and a light load of passengers), I literally went back and forth among four different locations before settling on the lesser of multiple evils.
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The overnight flight was basically sleepless, and now I'm sitting in a pub at London's Heathrow Airport, nibbling a sandwich and chips (french fries). While eating, I watch BBC television. And now there is “breaking news” flashing CNN-style across the bottom of the screen: The Tamil Tigers, a Sri Lankan terrorist militia, have staged an air attack on the capital city, Colombo. At least 38 people have been wounded. The airport is closed. Power is off in the city. I look down at my boarding pass, and it reads London - Colombo. This just keeps getting better and better…
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I did some quick online research at an Internet kiosk and learned that the Tamil Tigers are a terrorist organization, and the attack was an amateur-hour operation with a couple of light airplanes. Then I called my wife, Carol-Jean, in Kansas City to reassure her that I wasn't flying into a combat zone. She listened quietly and then told me about the sudden death of a Unity Institute student, Jim Pearce. He had come through cancer surgery with flying colors. Everything looked clear and bright. Then he died. I was shocked. And suddenly my complaints about discomfort and potential dangers on this trip seemed petty and petulant. I asked CJ to convey my deep sense of loss at Jim's memorial service. I realize again how good it is to have a partner like her.
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I am on the Sri Lankan Airlines flight now, half-listening as the pre-takeoff video tells me how to unbuckle a seat belt and where the life vests are stowed. I'm a theologian, but have no cosmic answer about Jim's death. Life happens. Then it ends. We respond with faith. He was a really good guy. Would that people will say likewise when our time comes.
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More later.
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