really, i can. my office is very close to dobbins air reserve base. just two miles away, if even that much. this building is on the top of a high hill that overlooks the interstate and my desk is on the top floor. so when the jets go away, they pass closely. and when the jets return, the pass closely. the noise lingers heavilly, sounding like a giant lion leaning into these giant panes of glass and breathing heavy. like an aslan. add the sonic curvature of the approach and descent and departure, and your mind cannot help but mentally place the sound somewhere in your periphery, like tracing down a housefly from its buzz, only louder, much louder. the building might not even vibrate at all, but your imagination provides enough seismic energy that you swear you see radiating circles in your coffee mug.
and now this happens everyday. and we all now why. the local division of the national team is gearing up, practicing for the big game and wondering if they’ll be put out first or sent in for relief or simply left alone to warm a bench or two. and how strange it is that america has breathed a collective sigh of relief over the avoidance of one strike, only to remain rather apathetic or unconcerned about the repercussions of a strike of an entirely different color.
there goes another one. bulleting the blue sky.
