On the Ground in Dublin

I have just arrived in Dublin and I'm sitting here at the airport cafe with some grumpy tour-mates awaiting our transport to the hotel.  The flights were l-o-n-g, and mostly uneventful except for some horrifying turbulence somewhere over the Atlantic.  Truly, I had  some stressful moments wondering at what point I should reach for the useless life vest under my seat (honestly, have you ever heard of a plane going down in the ocean and they later rescued survivors bobbing safely over sea swells?). It was fairly gnarly, with a few passengers screaming just to keep it lively, but it didn't last more than a few minutes.  Awhile later, the pilot apologized over the PA system.  I was under the impression that turbulence is not something under his control -- thus, no need for an apology.  However, if I am mistaken, then I do not forgive him.

Anyway, I don't have much to report so far, so I will just share the poem I wrote earlier today.  It is a TriCube (my first), a la Phillip Larrea.


Boarding the Airplane

Single file,
down the aisle
to our cramped

pleathered nests.
Luggage wedged
overhead.

Passengers
wedged below.
Our wings, clipped.