The (Second) Best of Me

I’m hovering in such an unusual time-space, as I’ve watched the sunset since I’ve been on this flight, but am noticing what looks like a sunrise dawning on the horizon, though we’ve only been in flight long enough to enjoy a complimentary (well, so they say) dinner, a brownie to save in my seat back pocket, and a warm tea coated with whatever made all of the overhead lights, except the one beside mine, blink off within a matter of minutes.

I’m not complaining, as the singular beam hovering above me from the seat beside mine not one tooth-brush time ago made me feel as if in comparison to the rest of the darkened cabin I was expected to perform in the spotlight, and we all know by now how much more effectively and entertainingly I play the role of an audience.

My watch reads 12:26 AM, and I’m suddenly aware that my resolve to hit the ground running could present a problem if jet lag decides to get the best of me, though the second best of me is still some kind of good time, if I know myself at all.

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