Time loses its usual mile markers on an airplane. This is partly because of the catnaps you inadvertently take, the durations of which are unguessable as you awake to a clockless world. And, unlike on public transit, the backs of heads surrounding you remain the same for the entire ride. Minutes and hours have little meaning in such a setting, and time instead becomes measurable by the number of trash collections that the flight attendants offer, by the battery level on your electronic device, by the increasingly sharp vinegar scent of well-used feet.
Project: Devise a way to block out these remaining indications of time passing, so that the flight exists outside of time and you can convince yourself it only took a minute of your unrepeatable life. Close your eyes when the flight attendants pass; turn off your device. Maybe a clothespin for your nose?