I am on one of those new Airplane
s. You know, the one that has an actual jogging
track installed around the outside. It is a treacherous catwalk
, about a yard
wide, that runs around the outside of the entire plane. For aerodynamic
purposes, it has several gap
s in the path along the side
s of the plane, basically one gap every window. I am sitting on the left wing
of the plane, watching a group of joggers
round the back of the plane and jump the gaps as they run up the left side towards the cockpit. The plane is in taxi
to the runway, and I tell the joggers that they should probably get inside before they blow away. They don't listen to me, but as they pass the wing, the lead runner trip
s, and soon they are all spilled out over the wing. The mess is exacerbate
d by the fact that the pilot has performed some test that makes the back two thirds of the wing to elevate.
The Airport we are in is not one big contiguous patch of land. Our plane's route to the runway passes through a kind of back alley in a residential neighborhood. Looking back over the wing, I see that we are passing over several small wind power generators that are spinning furiously in the plane's backwash. There are a few different models of wind generators, but they all have "AIRPORT PROPERTY" stenciled on them in faded red paint. I look over at the houses that we are passing, and I see that many are quite nice. I wonder how the residents can live with the noise we make.
I don't stay with the dream long enough to see what happens when we take off.