s5

today i woke up from a strange dream. O and i, and a few of our friends, planned to fly to bangkok from siberia. we had to drive to siberia from san francisco. this was a good idea because the flights were cheaper. i remember very little about the drive except for the snow, the endless snow.

we boarded the airplane: an aeroflot flight. (aeroflot is russia's airline, also one of the least safe airlines in the world. landings in moscow often involve 180 degree tailspins along sheets of ice-covered runway.)

the inside of the plane looked more like a filthy bar that might have been an old speakeasy. the carpets were green shag, matted with shoe dirt and gum. aluminum ashtrays, barely balanced on every armrest, spilled all over the seats, the floors, whatever they could reach. drunken flight attendants served bottles of liquor: one shot for me, one for the pilot, another for the passenger. the seats themselves were torn-up movie theater seats, sweat-stained and lined with cigarette holes. tattered seatbelts, in various states of disrepair, lay limply like wilted romaine. the music was loud industrial metal, like white zombie, but shrill because it was piped in. the other passengers cackled wickedly, as if everything was a big joke, though i didn't understand what was so funny. this was the flight from hell.

so i decided to split myself into two people: one of me would stay at home, the other would fly on the plane. when the plane landed in bangkok, i would merge with myself again.

i remember reloading the aeroflot arrivals website, waiting for the plane to land safely. but half-way through the flight it said "mid-flight accident." it couldn't be possible. i was still alive. i didn't believe what i was reading.

the next scene, i'm inside the plane. the plane is flying close to the ground, maybe within 100 meters. we fly into canyons and through tunnels, and hover over freeways. the pilot says this is because aeroflot planes have a terrible reputation, so they fly close to the ground.

that's all.