Living Reflection from a Dream
by Liz Wyckoff
On our Delta flight from Portland to Atlanta, we all watch a precautionary video. No more flight attendants with poorly-choreographed clicks and tightenings. No oxygen masks held up to the ceiling and dropped dangerously close to passengers’ faces.
Now, we get Katherine Lee: star of Delta’s airline safety video. We get the subtle cups of her cheeks, a finger wag warning us that our “mobile phones and other electronic devices should 
now be turned … off;” the seductive snap of that cell phone in her well-manicured hand. We get tangerine-colored hair swept across her forehead like a smooth cirrus cloud.
We, the passengers, are a motley crew. Lots of glasses. We chew the ice in our complimentary drinks. I get the sense we’re all playing the game I usually play in tight spaces with strangers. If the plane crash-lands on an uninhabited island, with whom will we make babies to propagate the species? We glance at each other out of the corners of our eyes.
Most of us, I believe, are remembering the video. Her voice echoes in our heads like something a partner once said during sex. “Insert the metal tip into the buckle.” “Adjust the strap so it’s low and tight across your lap.”
Every once in a while, we tune our mini television screens to the program that charts our path across the country. We cruise over the cookie-cutter borders of Nebraska and Kansas and Missouri. Altitude: 37,004 ft. Ground Speed: 943 km/h.
We all want to be somewhere: the place we just left, the place we’re going, or somewhere else altogether.
Later, we watch a beautiful sunrise—the moon hangs pale and white as a clipped fingernail in the sky. About an inch from the horizon, the atmosphere shifts into a deep red, then a brilliant orange, then, finally, the color of the Delta woman’s hair. Tangerine.
We, the passengers, have dull, greasy hair. We lower our window shades and shut our eyes. Thankfully, we’ll be here for a few more hours.
