The air crews have seen things they don't discuss.

Climbing a ladder of contrails into an ice crystal heaven.
Lambent sunlight on the jump seat. Lasering across the
hot carpet. Relaxing in a Pullman on a DC-10.


Something just hit the window! Something gelatinous.
Something gelatinous with lacy wings.

Jackson of the air crew laughs deep within himself. In his
broad and stagey Cockney accent: "Oh, one of those!
Don't worry about that, sir. They's always gummin up the
works, they is."
     "But what on earth are they?"
     "Can't say, sir."
     "You mean...somebody's forbidding--"
     "Nah, not like that, mean I don't know. No one really
knows, sir. Not even the Captain." He added, "N'he knows