Now, I am a human. But 99% of the time I try and keep any open face leakage to myself. I don't cry over weddings or puppies. And in general I'd say my eye sweat is seen in public about as much as a golden ticket to the chocolate factory or an Indus River Dolphin at a music festival. Why? Maybe I don't like that kind of attention. Maybe it's primeval (Bears: They Smell The Sad!)
But watching this spectacular natural show, while the whole plane slept like zombies, could I stop the hot swathe of salty precipitation down my face? Even if I'd bitten my seat buckle so hard I induced a hernia or ground my teeth to pure dust - it's doubtful. My jaw ached, my temples burst and my cheeks barbecued themselves as in a state of exhaustion, I watched each zip of stars skit past my eyes. Another case in point was en route from Hong Kong to Heathrow. All Bill Murray had to say was 'enjoy my jacket. Which you stole,' for me to become no parts human and all parts puddle.
So, stratospheric melancholy. I want to know why are we so much more affected by any small emotive prod on a plane? I genuinely thought lack of oxygen may be to blame. But were not that lacking in oxygen on our commercial jets, or I'm sure plenty of lawyers would have something to say/argue/win/ban. Even so, Virgin Atlantic have issued 'weep warnings' alongside certain films after a poll found that 55% of air passengers (of BOTH gender, please thank you) revealed they get disproportionately emotional while travelling. So there must be some common cause to this altitude emo-sinkhole so many of us trip unwillingly into. But if you're looking for science, it's thin on the ground.So, from me to you, here are a bunch of hypothesis as to why you just may fall off the edge on a Boeing, even though in real life you're normal, and the film you are watching is a hammy clutch of unrelatable characters, so full of plot holes, you could use it to sieve your pasta.*
1. You're in a tube in the sky and you have no control over it. Someone you don't know is wearing a fancy hat, and driving you through space in a souped up cartridge pen. On a subconscious level that's got to hit.
2. Apparently when your body is intensely stimulated in stress or excitement (take off/landing/a tiger mob), tears won't come, as primitively they're of no use at that point (misty vision = death.) That moment where we switch from sensory overload to calm can often result in unwanted wet-eye.
3. You're alone. Your phone doesn't work. You can't deal with your own brain chat/existence. Or you CAN deal with your own brain chat/existence, and isn't it and this thing called flying amazing?! Ether way, perfect time for an existential crisis. (Please refer to Louis CK on cell phones and flying, and my previous blog post about how bonkers this shit is here: Fly Me To The Fear.)
4. Free in-flight alcohol deliverance. Tap that complimentary Bombay Sapphire at your own peril.
5. Circumstance. You're leaving something to start something new. Or your leaving something new to return to something old. Or you're simply leaving behind some tremendous humans. Preparing to leave somewhere is fraught with practicalities. When they're done, and your alone in 29C with just a bunch of documentaries or a porthole into the abyss, what then?
6. Just generally - what the fuck are we all doing here?
*I like to think an astro-miracle is a little different. But hey, bawling is bawling. If it's good enough for Tom Waits...
