Kleenex -- An Aviation Poem

Martin Kaduc
Jun 15, 2019 - 0 min read

Editor's Note: Welcome to Art of Flying, our take on the "art of airlines." This is the first in a weekly series of commercial aviation commentaries in the form of poetry by Kambr Inc.'s Martin Kaduc.

(Bohemian Rhapsody) (Free Solo) (The Front Runner) and (Vice) - for a different reason, but it happens every time, 

I get seated, peruse the new releases, make my selection and recline. 

It’s my way of staying culturally relevant while ignoring my seatmate, 

and more importantly pretending I’m not stuck in the middle of row twenty-eight. 

Doesn’t matter if I’m solo or traveling with another, 

why am going to admit this publicly – what if this gets read by my brother? 

Anyway, it’s even worse when I’m sitting next to a colleague or an old friend, 

I know it’s coming eventually but hope this time I can make it to the end. 

But alas that damn moment always sneaks up as hard as I may try, 

and with a blink the spigot is turned on and I begin to cry. 

What is it about movies on airplanes that makes me weep with sadness or with joy, 

Even after every countermeasure to prevent I do deploy. 

I’m embarrassed to, but recently watched (What Women Want) I do admit, 

and yet even that wretched plot teared me up a bit. 

I give up and accept I’m emotional when in the air, 

so if you spot me crying in 28E, go ahead and stare. 

The tears are a badge of honor, I cry and I don’t care. 


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