Haiti: The Sound of Lightening

Sprinkled mostly between rows 26-30 on a flight from Fort Lauderdale to Miami, eighteen people put their hands in the air, roller coaster style, as the plane accelerated down the runway.  Of the nearly 200 people in the 737, we certainly held the honor of being the loudest bunch.  Not in an annoying way, but in the manner of twelve college students and six adults full of life and energy at the prospect of a missions trip adventure in Haiti.

Staring out the window, Lorrie and I marveled at the ground below.  Big details, such as the panes of glass on the mall room or the white lines of a parking lot, shrank to tiny details, as the picture below us grew simultaneously smaller and larger.  Asphalt high ways receded and individual trees became a mass of green.  A string of lakes reflected in the sun, reminiscent of skid marks after a bouncing crash.

Already our second plan trip, my knees felt crunched as I tried to sleep on the cramped airplane.  A cranky attitude grew, then faded when Lorrie directed my thoughts to the beautiful out doors.

I desperately long to adequately describe the majesty of the view above the clouds, but Dr. Amorose (of my creative nonfiction class) would consider me horribly cliché for using the worn out words typically called upon to express the wonder of cloud.  Then again, journalism classes assure me: clichés unite the human experience because everyone can relate to them.  With these two warring factions in my head, primarily food related phrases came to mind.

From the window I could see pieces of angel food cake, the brown exterior irregularly ripped away, reflecting the glow of a fresh peeled orange the zesty pink of water melon slices.

Mashed potatoes carefully peeled, eradicating all dark marks, poured unevenly in a pan and set under the orange glow of the broiler to keep warm.

Unevenly piqued clouds, piled high in the distance and stretched too thin directly below, touched every so gently with the splendor of a guava pink and peach sunset.  Shining blue sky separated our miniscule aircraft from the muddy green spike of earth below.

Gazing out the eighteen-inch portal and across the frozen clusters of water around me, the plan shuddered and shook. Even the serenity before me had a hint of restlessness.

The hint soon broke into dramatic proclamation as a streak of lightening flashed through the clouds.  I heard no thunder over the drone of the airplane engines, but as the waves of light illuminated the clouds I imagined the sound of percussion instruments smashing in the background.

In my biology class last quarter, we learned how some people in the world have their senses cross-wired.  Instead of hearing music, they see the sounds as color.  A documentary called God Vibrations shared that a correlation exists between sound and color.  With my limited knowledge on the subject, I construe this to be a result of waves.  Sound travels in waves, light travels in waves, and wave lengths match up. 

So I wonder; what does the flash of white lightening sound like? White is the perfect mix of every color, so is lightening the perfect mix of every sound?  Or is it a moment of discord dancing across the sky like the path of a drunken superhero?

Once more, I digress.