Seat 14J to Seoul, Korea

I’m in seat 14J in Business Class behind a set of rambunctious twins around five. Why are they up here? They belong in Economy torturing those saps back there. Perhaps a more fitting question is why am I up here? Not in Business Class in front of the behind-the-curtain seats(mileage upgrade), but why am I am a plane going to Korea, a country of which I know nothing? I’m leaving a group of friends that I greatly enjoy, a city that has become my home over the past 13 years, a teaching position that I felt I was really growing into, not to mention leaving my wife behind for three months. Kristie and I talk about how these last couple of years have been our happiest days; we are contented by our current life, not grumbling about needed a change from work, the weather, or people. So I’ll ask once again, why am I sitting in 14J next to Alfred the German software company vice president filling out custom forms watching the brats throw the United Comfort Pack around in their overstuffed chairs?

I don’t know.

At times, I’m a hypocrite. I like to think that I one of those adventurous types, wanting to travel and see and experience. That’s what I tell my Rhode Island people back there. I left Rhode Island when I was 17 to join the Air Force. I never thought that I was an adventurous before that, I just wanted to do something cool. As I told many times since, that plane trip to San Antonio, Texas, began an altered course for my life. It was a trajectory that took me far away from the ordinary. Let me go back to my blatant hypocrisy: I am pretty ordinary. I like being a home with Kristie and I shy away from major disruptions in my routine. As Kristie or other close friends can attest, I become out-of-sorts during major moves, decisions, or even projects around the house. I’m afraid of all the aspects that can go wrong. Even as I type, I fear the problems in getting a house in Korea, Kristie not being able to rent out our own house, Aslan being able to get enough exercise, etc.

I think the reason I like the unknown future is because I’m uncertain and afraid of it. It’s a titillating feeling that could be psychopathically deviant if it were applied to other areas of life. The uncertainty is alluring to me. The fact that I don’t know anything about the country in which I’m going to live for two years, or whether I’ll enjoy the new school, or if I’ll make some good friends makes this one of those trajectory points. I’m not sure what my opinion of Korea will be in two years, but I’m quite certain that the path of our lives will be altered some. A slight angle at the point of trajectory will, of course, grow into a larger angle as the line lengthens. If this were Math class, a diagram would help.

The brats are watching Garfield: The Movie. I even dislike their movie choice. Enough of that. The flight attendant brought a dish of warm nuts and a glass of Merlot, the humble offerings of a new trajectory.