The flight out of La Guardia to Orlando is like the motherfucking United Nations of crying children: Babies of every race and creed, their voices forming a chorus of unintelligible desire, their families scrambling to translate. JetBlue Airways flight #299 puts of the horror of the nuclear family on full display.

Fear not: redemption is on the horizon, only a few hours away. Embedded amongst dozens of families in crisis, we are hurtling towards validation, and perhaps even some semblance of joy. Orlando International Airport proclaims it; a facsimile of Mickey Mouse greets us with open arms.

We’ve made it to the Kingdom...

Published in Manifest: A Journal of the Americas issue 2, 2016

Together with Ian Quate/ Other Fields

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