Mind Travels

The landscape is blanket white. Some pertruding rocks suggest the boundary of a car park. ‘This’ll do’. I pull up in Baby Blue’ (my light blue Toyota Corolla), parking on a gentle slope. ‘Enough time’ I tell myself.

Baby blue is already lightly powdered in white. I grab my gear and head for the main doors of the Auckland International Airport terminal. Mt Ruapheu is not the best place for an airport. Im not the only one out here, Meg and Jack White are running up and down the slopes screaming like kids, some other punks are hanging round the cars with their frosted mohawks. Im a bit worried about leaving Baby Blue in the carpark for a year..

The sliding doors of the terminal open and the warm glow of the lights welcome me inside. (I think I checked out Artport, my old work) But reasonably briskly I move through customs to airside. No problems, Im not a terrorist.

The plane to Amsterdam is boarding shortly… A little bit apprehensive I check myself for the umteenth time. Got everything? this-check that-check…

“@#F&*#!!!” No!! Its much too cold in Amsterdam to not be wearing shoes! I must wear shoes, Ill be frost bitten the moment I get off the plane! My shoes!

(I love to do this – I love to take my shoes off when Im driving and set the car heater straight on them. I wind my window down a fraction so I feel the cool on my face but a fan of warm air is on my feet. My shoes sit on the passengers floor beside me.)

That is where my black Diesel shoes are sitting now. Snap decision – I run back out of the airport and down the mountain to get my shoes. There is time. I reach Baby Blue and see punks had wasted no time smashing the back passenger window of Baby Blue. Shattered glass is strewn through the car and scattered like jewels on the snow by the tyres. Of course Im mad, but Ill sort it out when I return in a year. More importantly Im relieved to see my shoes where I left them.

That should’ve been the end of this dream. I had my shoes.

But no, my mind managed to conjure a disaster situation: I missed my flight and my luggage had gone with it. The next flight didn’t leave until the next day – much too long to wait. The only flight available was departing for Jordan. I got on. A uniform blanket of tan sand welcomed me there. Now lost in Jordan, I cannot recall what followed.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 17th, 2004 at 11:22 pm and is filed under New Zealand. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.