Sunday, November 01, 2009

Night Gallery (Burroughs Flight 496 to Beijing)

[I'm in Beijing and I've broken the Great Wall Blogger Barrier; you're stuck with me this week after all...]

Odd flight.

They do things a little differently on these vessels to China. Seated in row-1, on a direct flight which began with a half-dozen very lovely ladies removing my shoes and applying undersized slippers to oversized foot flanks, literally moments before one of them cooed intoxicating sweet nothings I didn't mind not deciphering - but suddenly then pointed a large pistol to the center of my upper universe.

Now, I’ve seen enough bad movies to know this is not good. But before I could edit my way out of danger I was struck between the eyes with a bolt of red light.

Can they really know I’ve taken derisive action to get around this Big Brother Blogger Block and I’m planning to post right from the heart of their Forbidden City? If I’m not being executed right here on the spot (the slipper routine a kind of gentle, traditional gesture before putting me down), then they must be injecting some sort of monitoring chip right between the eyes; keep tabs that way on my unseemly plots; move in once I prove myself worthy of stamping-out. These were of the 20 scrambled thoughts racing through my mind in the crescent of a nano second. Time slowed to a crawl and light appeared to be streaming from heaven as I sized-up my sudden end; curious now that I had dropped that upper division Wushu class in college; wishing I hadn't turned off the camera just a moment sooner.

Even with a gun to my head, she really was quite lovely.

Anyway, before I could unleash my still-measuring response, they moved on to the next schlub and were soon enough aiming the same neon laser indiscriminately onto his crown chakra as well. Some calmer moment later I flipped-up my personal, AKA approved televisioning device and selected the short feature entitled Chinese Entry and Quarantine. As it turns out I can expect more infrared blows to the head, as the country is merely reading my temperature in order to screen me for possible infectious diseases. The film asks that passengers cough-up any rabies they might be storing and report to any one of the half-dozen ladies if fever should strike during the course of the month-long flight. A friendly quaran-tarentino officer is then notified from the cockpit and (he!) will be awaiting your first step onto the tarmac; your personal iron lung in tow.

No Tiananmen square dancing for you wolf man.

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