My company would have paid for a cab to the airport, but Tano wanted to drive me. At 6 a.m. |
You probably remember this day: it's the day after the Swissair plane crashed. I asked Tano what he thinks people did for the sixteen minutes they knew they were crashing.
Tano said, "Are you going to talk about his crash for as long as you talked about the TWA crash?"
"How can you not be interested?" I said. "If we knew what these people did in their last sixteen minutes then we could know what to do with our lives."
Then Tano asked if he had time to go to the bathroom before we go to the airport.
"No," I said.
I gave Tano a list. I told him, "This is my will."
1. My ATM code is 1234. Give Daniel the money.
2. Let Daniel take whatever he wants of my stuff. You can have the rest.
3. Bury me with my mom's family. My dad will be angry about this and it will be a sad time to make him angry, so have my grandma tell him.
4. Bring your parents to the funeral because my family doesn't really know you and you'll feel all alone.
5. I love you.
Tano said, "Your code is too obvious. You know that's dangerous."
I wheel my baggage to the gate. I am very early because:
1. When I flew to Israel I left myself six minutes to pack and for six weeks I had to wear scratchy Israeli underwear.
2. When I flew back to Illinois after freshman year I wrote my art history final during my packing time, so I put all my unpacked stuff in a taxi, and while I was packing my stuff into United Airlines boxes my volleyball was rolling through the check-in section and my flight was taking off.
On this flight everyone is reading the LA Times that has the headline, "Passengers Anticipated Crash." There are no pictures because the plane crashed so hard that the pieces of plane are at the bottom of the Atlantic and the pieces of the people are floating on top. The guy next to me is next to his wife, or his girlfriend, or some woman who is like me and wants to be intimate with the person next to her so if we crash she will die next to someone who cares about her and holds her hand.
I smile at the guy when he is not smiling at her. It turns out that he is getting a Ph.D. in sociology.
I put my diary under my shirt because when your body gets blown to pieces, it's the limbs that are most likely to go. Maybe if my torso stays in one piece, everyone will see my diary tucked inside and they will think my diary is very important to me, and then maybe someone will look for all fifty-eight other volumes.