Welcome to Indianapolis

5/29/05
(Crick in neck, fitful sleep)

I am flying across the country in stages, stopping to rest for a few weeks or a month to as I go. But I am worried that I won't make it as far as Indianapolis before winter: I can't fly at all in winter because the air is too cold and I do not have adequate protection from snow storms.

Then I arrive in Indianapolis. It looks exactly like it does in the movies. Ecstatic, I fly around downtown, soaring around the buildings and the giant clock tower for which this great Midwestern city is known. Suddenly, it's the middle of the night. I fly under a massive metal bridge and get covered in something wet. It is paint: they are painting the bridge red. I move into the airspace above a huge high-rise apartment complex, but then it occurs to me that I might be seen. A person covered in red paint swooping around at night could easily be mistaken for an angel covered in blood - and in this "Red state," a probable harbinger of the promised End Times - which would not be good. I realize that I need to get out of Indianapolis really soon.