I remember a film called The Longest Day about the D Day landings. I recently experienced the The Shortest Night with landings in Paris, Osaka and Naha.
I first fly from Lyon to Paris across the Kodachrome yellow of French rape fields. I do not remember rape being a crop as a boy. I wonder when it became popular?
“What are you in for?”
“Sure, I got 2 weeks for stealing potatoes.” says the hapless Irishman.
“Well, I got life for rape.”
” Holy Mother of God, you must have eaten the whole field.”
Paris to Osaka flying East. I look out of the window.
Very soon the sun goes down.
I watch Easy Rider. which fits perfectly with timeless, spaceless nature of traveling East in a daze.
Then, in about as much time as it takes to cross from LA to New Orleans in the movie, the sun appears to have whipped around the world and is making itself known over the horizon.
I suppose the fact that we are whizzing eastward at high speed and the sun is whizzing westward at even higher speed , like beams in a collider, results in the shortness of the night. However, I find it tiring to think about these things.
I go to the toilet in Osaka.
I sleep from Osaka to Okinawa.
I cannot understand people who moan about long distance flights. They are awesome.
[aw-suhm] Show IPA