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