Bless me, father

I have a confession to make. I am the kind of guy who listens to his mp3 player on take-off. Even after they’ve specifically warned us not to. Even though my headphones are clearly visible. And I’m unrepentant. Something about the drama of flight requires a soundtrack, and it gives rise to some of the best musical moments. ‘Uplift’ by Horrorshow is a runway favourite. This morning I was listening to Anita George, and at the exact second that she first sang “shine your little light”, we crested Lima’s morning ocean fog and a great fat apricot of a sun lanced through the clouds and stabbed us in both eyes. These are the moments on offer if you’re prepared to break the rules.

Somehow I just can’t believe that a pair of headphones will be the difference. But sometimes I have a sudden fear that they will, that I’ll bring down the entire jetliner in a blaze of flame with my $80 piece of Japanese electronics. It would be pretty awkward when everybody on the plane suddenly turns up at the same time in the reception area of the afterlife. There’d be a lot of nervous shuffling and looking around while we try to work out what the hell’s going on, but eventually someone (one of the stewies probably, after a quiet word with the captain) will say, “OK. Who was enjoying the use of a personal music device?” And the guy who was next to me will glare at me across the potted ferns and I’ll have to own up. Shit. Well at least I’m listening to good music, like Anita, and the Postal Service. I’d fucking hate to get killed by some douchebag listening to Creed.

01 bless me father 060

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