the heel press

"And I don't ever want to feel like I did that day, take me to the place I love, take me all the way..."  -Red Hot Chili Peppers

The familiar sound of a jet engine roared as the plane turned for take off. I swallowed from the pressure of sudden lift. The morning sun beamed brightly through the window and onto my face. The roads became small and the horizon widened. Towers, buildings and cathedrals were tiny now. The plane continued to rise over the first hills where the grass was still green and the sun was still rising, past the birds, through the clouds until it finally steadied and there were blue skies.

I should have been happy, there was a breathtaking view of the Swiss Alps and I was finally going home. But I wasn't. All I could feel was depravity throughout my body. I was sure it wouldn't end - that tomorrow morning would never come - but it had, and I already felt the withdrawals.

Maybe it was lack of sleep. Maybe I was still hung over. I don't know, but the feeling had taken over. The base of the speakers pulsating through my clothes, the cold beer on my hand and the bitter taste of a lemon after a shot of tequila. My lips could still taste it. I could still hear the music.

The night was brilliant. It was like love, it was pure. It was like an angel of that I'm sure. It was James Blunt. It was beautiful. It was beautiful it's true. It was Michael Buble - Paris and Rome but we didn't want to go home. It was Van Morrison, a brown eyed girl laughing and running, skipping and jumping in the misty morning fog. It was Ben Harper, it burned from end to end. It burned long and slow and lighted us before we had to go. It was Queen's greatest hit, it was the real life, or was it fantasy? We were caught in a landslide, no escaping from reality.

I opened my eyes, looked out to the sky to see. The plane could only move forward. And time can only move forward. Just like that. A feeling you can relive through memories but it's never quite the same.

I closed my eyes. I saw the rolling hills of Tuscany. It was not a plane - it was a bus I was sitting on. And I was not headed to California, but coming home to Siena after a daytrip to Florence. I could see in the distance an old villa and fields of grape vines where they would make wine. The sun slowly settled making the clouds turn pink and the sky a bright gold. For a moment, these thoughts made me feel better.

Ding. "Attention ladies and gentleman, we are experiencing brief turbulence, please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts."

I am snapped awake. The plane rattles and drops. I hear screams of terror and little children crying. The feeling returns. I can't bare it. I need sleep. Take me away.

A few moments later, the plane steadies.

I closed my eyes again. I was back in Tuscany and ready for another night. I grab my coat and head out to the bar to meet everyone. I see the bartender and order a round of shots.

We laughed and danced and went back to the bartender. I order more tequila and it bit my cheeks. I have another and another until it set me free. Free from uncertainty. Free from a nine to five. Free from bills. Free from the expectations of American society. Free from the daily grind of mundane routines. And most of all I was free from the future because there was no tomorrow. That was Italy.

We order more shots and the chaser washed it down and warmed us up and we didn't care about anything except it was the greatest times we've ever had. Even after the bars emptied and the doors closed and the music stopped, we kept singing on to the streets and on to our places because we wouldn't let it end. Those were the nights.

Then I opened my eyes.

Ding. "Attention ladies and gentleman, we are now preparing for landing. Please fasten your seatbelts and turn off all remaining electronics."

That feeling came crashing back. I looked out the window. I saw L.A. and the plane descended.