Spoiler
for this contest
contests/viewcontest.php?id=52
About the story: we all have acquaintances, then people we hang out with daily, then people we just mess around with, then our real friends. There are progressively fewer of each. But, this story is about having 12 best friends. Yeah I should have come up with something better for such a great premise. I'm in a little slump. -_-
ps. transnoodling--I honestly just wanted to use that word. I guess it's kind of when your friend noodles a word, like WaaAAAaaaAAAaaaAA as if they're swooping the emphasis back and forth. I made that up. Another meaning for it is turning someone into a bowl of noodles, but that's...impossible...right? *shudders*
contests/viewcontest.php?id=52
About the story: we all have acquaintances, then people we hang out with daily, then people we just mess around with, then our real friends. There are progressively fewer of each. But, this story is about having 12 best friends. Yeah I should have come up with something better for such a great premise. I'm in a little slump. -_-
ps. transnoodling--I honestly just wanted to use that word. I guess it's kind of when your friend noodles a word, like WaaAAAaaaAAAaaaAA as if they're swooping the emphasis back and forth. I made that up. Another meaning for it is turning someone into a bowl of noodles, but that's...impossible...right? *shudders*
Chase jabs an elbow into my side. "AnNNNiiiiii" he transnoodles.
"Chase what the ****," I mumble, pressing my face harder against the glass. The cold, bright window mushes up against my cheek and I hear and feel the glass vibrating a little.
"Happy birthday," he says, and I feel his warm arm wrap around my shoulders and pull me into a hug, my head resting on his shoulder, like 3 years ago when we first met at a pool game at the Boston Beerworks. He walked off by himself and sat in a windowsill, and I pulled myself up next to him and started listening to the stories of this young bespectacled black man with a preppy look and a positive outlook.
"BIRTHDAY." says Rygha, behind us, and I hear a loud pop. Rygha has opened a party favor over my head over the back of the seat, and the brightly colored confetti gets into my eyes as I blink them open, finally. I yawn and laugh at the same time, elbowing Chase back. "You're ****ing going to get kicked off the plane."
"Hey!" Rockwell calls from down the aisle. He's the spike-haired blonde five seats down, faithfully wearing his Rondo jersey over a black t-shirt as the Celts play the Knicks back home. The other passengers on Flight 800 probably think we're nutcases, but Rockwell, like the rest of the Fantastic Twelve, does not shut up to maintain appearances. "Aniiiii! The big two-three? Michael Jordan? ****ing party, man!"
"It's not my birthday, Chase is being a dork," I say. Chase grins, a smile offset by a swollen cheek that makes him look half-chipmunk, or rather, as if he had a whole chipmunk contained in the cheek. We were doing dash vaults off the office's spiral staircase, landing on my car hood. I nailed it on my second try; he did perfect on his first, but nailed his face tumbling off the car hood the second. The doctor correctly predicted that the pressure at 35,000 feet would balloon the injured area.
"We passed the international dateline. We're in Japan. It's tomorrow. THUS, IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY IN THIS PART OF THE EARTH!" Chase shouts.
The Fantastic Twelve couldn't get a row to themselves. They're spaced out throughout the plane, heading toward Osaka International Airport, and I figured they'd plug in various brands of earbud and mp3 player or portable gaming device, like normal people. But I hear Chase, Rygha, Rockwell, Allie, Sabin--Chase's boyfriend--Tesauro, Matt, Alek, Meggie, Yoyo--our ground level translator/guide for the next week--Benjamin, and Andrew all call out, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANIIIIIIIIIII!!!"
There's a reason I'm the thirteenth member of the Twelve. I unclip my seatbelt, stretch my legs as I clumsily stand, and bow over the rows of seats to everyone aboard the aircraft. Best surprise party ever-- while flying to the anniversary conference of the Global Nuclear Tragedy Recovery Symposium with 12 of my best friends.
