Thread: "To Infinity and Beyond," My Smoke Report of the 20th Annual Cannabis Cup (2007)
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Old 11-28-2007, 07:52 PM
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AK Infinity
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[11-17-2007, 3:50 PM My Night Flight - Part 2]
As the plane streaked through the cold and beautiful blue sky the day was slowly swallowed up by the night. It smoldered on the horizon with burnt sienna and musky charcoal powder and smoke. The nervous energy was beginning to grow inside of my chest from a whisper to a wave of rippling and flowing, jostling, eventually cascading heat that wrapped itself around my realization. I was bound for that Cannabis Cup and I had orchestrated it all from an intangible goal.

That shit's just crazy. My brain was on fire with thoughts of weed. WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! (Takes a little nap, wakes up brushes his teeth, eats breakfast and resumes chanting.) WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED! WEED!

The hours on the flight were spent in quiet meditation with a slight mix of movies and music. I was lucky enough to get an aisle seat and a guy sitting next to me slept through most of the flight so I didn't really have any distractions. I also had another insight in the middle of all those long hours in the air, if you aren't actively working toward a goal of some kind you'll stagnate and become a nameless face followed by a social security number, content to be but never to live.

Eventually the Captain's voice came over the speakers and announced that we were making our final approach to Schiphol Airport. The plane began to descend, my ears began to pop and a few minutes later the plane landed. Due to the dense population in Amsterdam there's some sort of noise ordinance associated with morning landings so the plane took about twenty-five minutes to taxi to the Airport gate.

He has arrived over the rainbow...
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". . . Love is no hot-house flower, but a wild plant, born of a wet night, born of an hour of sunshine; sprung from wild seed, blown along the road by a wild wind. A wild plant that, when it blooms by chance within the hedge of our gardens, we call a flower; and when it blooms outside we call a weed; but, flower or weed, whose scent and colour are always, wild!"

~John Galsworthy - "The Forsyte Saga"~
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