by Matthew Dexter
I walked through the Newark International Airport metal detector with an ounce of marijuana in my jockstrap and two pellets of mescaline in my sock. I had removed the protective cup to provide more…
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Afterimage
by KT Thompson
When the airplane crashed in the meadow, I was on a walk to look for birds. My torso a crosshatch of straps: binoculars, camera, sling with water and treats for my dog, the leash.
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Points of departure
by Fargo Kantrowitz
I remember the snow. I wasn't brought up on snow back in the deserts of Las Vegas, but in Boston they had a lot of it. I remember it sitting in the giant push-back…
by Cynthia Bargar
Sleeping bagels tucked into brown paper beds and free Boston Globes and Wall Street Journals greeted us. I chose Globe with its smoky volcanic Icelandic ash smothering Europe, halting air travel. We shuttled smug…
by Maria Pinheiro
There are, in my opinion, two types of people in this world: those who enjoy flying in planes, and those who would rather embark on a long and arduous 27-hour train ride than strap…
by Matthew Guenette
This happened at Logan Airport, at the check-in. My younger brother was standing behind me. The woman at the counter asked if I had been, “in control of my bag all day.” Before I…
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