The Jesus of Suburbia

Take Me to Paradise

I sat on the plane with my phone, reading through my texts with the girl who'd stopped me on the way in. She seemed pretty nice, actually.

Her name was Detroit. It seemed like an odd name for an Irish girl, so I asked about it. Apparently her parents had named all their kids after American places. She had a sister named Manhattan and a brother named Albany.

Weird family.

We discussed bands, mostly. Detroit liked more indie acoustic than I did. She told me about a band called Briar Rose and Sunshine from Germany that very few people knew about. After looking up their music, I discovered they were good if you got used to the lack of drums and swearing.

Detroit had last texted me something remotely flirtatious and I wasn't exactly buying it. Luckily, I couldn't reply until the flight was over.

So, I set my phone aside and looked out the window as the city grew smaller and farther away.

It was dark, but Dublin was still covered in little dots of light. So many people were behind those dots of light.

Some were probably crying, others falling in love, some eating dinner alone, some setting aside their dinner to kiss the one they love. Somewhere in this city someone was probably dying too.

It wasn't exactly a cheery thought, but it was worth thinking about. I've always thought it was interesting that everyone I see is thinking something different, seeing me from a perspective I've never seen and leading a life that I've never experienced. If you think about it too long your brain starts to hurt.

I lean back in my seat and look at the panel of controls above my head. Beside me is Tré who is currently asleep with a plane blanket and pillow. They're actually very good blankets.

Being the dumbass I am, I refused one when the attractive Irish female flight attendant came along to offer one to me. Now I was just cold and too full of my unmanly self.

I pull on a sweatshirt and cross my arms over my chest, closing my eyes. Light pink flashes behind my eyelids and tiny memories from the night with Whatsername flood my vision. I'm only sure of one thing: we didn't have sex.

It feels strange to be sure of that, but I am. I remember us kissing and playing music extremely loud. There was a lot of alcohol involved and probably some sort of drug too. We ended up falling asleep together, protecting the other from some hallucination of a demon.

At least that's what I gathered from the bits and pieces I remembered.

It was one of the most wonderful nights of my life, but here I am, flying farther and farther away from the girl who made it happen. Who knows? Maybe she's dating that Timothy guy she mentioned.

After some more thinking and the continuous snoring from the man next to me, I allowed sleep to drag me under.