Written November 27, 2004:

...and this is how you leave Dallas, in an airplane starring out a window as the ground rushes away from you and the telephoto lense of your perspective zooms out until the image refocuses as cars, trees, roads, fields, a river; the arial view of a lonely city amidst vast countryside.
No one seems to drive to Dallas anymore, no airplanes are the prefered medium of travel here.
Look to your right to see the sun rise through the windows, cresting over the face of a woman sleeping across the isle. The effect is vaguely cinematic and reminiscent of a magazine add for blankets or sleeping pills or some other bullshit.
The man next to you crosses his chest every time he finishes a verse in his bible. He reads it constantly as though it might protect him from Islamic terrorists, dogs that wear hats, or airline food, all of which are devilish things.
Soon you will be in Missouri, and you may take consolation in the fact that it is a slightly less depressing place than an airplane cabin.