(Here is my attempt to break away from the heavy, depressing stuff I usually write. How badly did I fail?)
"27B...27B...." Norman muttered to himself looking from his boarding pass to the seats upholstered alternately in orange, purple, and other shades of tacky. "Ah, 27B." There it was. His seat (a scratchy, stained blue) put him squarely between a large bald man who, despite having turned all three of the little air-conditioning vents to blow directly at him, was already sweating and a woman in pajamas who apparently was planning to sleep through the ten-hour flight and was getting a head start. Norman had to squeeze past the sleeping woman to get to his seat. She groaned, stretched, and her arm slipped off the armrest into Norman's seat. Norman picked up her sleeve and guided her arm back to the armrest. She rolled her head sleepily towards him and breathed, "Sorry." He understood then why she was so sleepy. Bourbon.
"Oh this is going to be fun." He thought as he grasped the two ends of the seat belt and strapped himself in for the flight from San Francisco to London. "Ten hours of this." From the vantage point of his seat, he surveyed the plane, starting with his little realm of personal space. Little, it was. He stretched out his legs to discover that he would have had more room if he were riding in the back seat of his nephew’s Power Wheels car. The only advantage to this was that it put the tiny TV screen within viewable range. Seeing as how it was an impressive 4 inches wide, the close proximity was necessary. The rest of the plane did not improve his impression. The long tunnel shape of the plane made him think about what it must have been like for Pinocchio inside the whale.
Ding The safety announcement began. A flock of flight attendants appeared and did their little demonstration, waving arms in the direction of the nearest exits (oh did he want to use one), demonstrating where the life jackets were located and how to use the oxygen masks. Norman leafed through the safely booklet located in front of his seat. It showed the crash landing position, the oxygen we-have-just-lost-cabin-pressure-and-are-about-to-die air masks, and the we-just-crash-landed-survivers-get-the-hell-outta-here yellow slides all being depicted by smiling cartoon characters.
The flight attendants dispersed back to wherever it is they disappear to, and the plane began its take off procedure. This consisted of an agonizingly slow taxi ride to the runway, a half-hour long wait in line for the other flying metal whales to take off, and finally a rumbling lurch into the air.
Ding. "The in flight movies are about to begin. Headsets can be found in front of your seats along with our program guide." Norman leafed through the movie listings. It was not much of a selection. There were some films that hadn't lasted long enough in the theaters to have made an impression on anyone, a Disney animated feature for kids, and one channel option ran a series of Sandra Bullock movies. None of the films interested Norman, but the woman beside him was beginning to snore and at least the headphones would drown it out a bit. He decided to watch the movie marathon. Miss Congeniality was first. It was a comedy, so maybe it would improve his mood. He tried to get comfortable to watch the movie, but both armrests were occupied, one by the sleeping woman who was slumping over hers and the other by the fat man’s stomach which had found itself a seat of its own.
“I’ll just ignore it all and watch the movie,” he thought to himself. He steered his mind to forget the plane, the cramped space, the bodies too close to his, and the lack of fresh air. “Air. I could use some fresh air.” The air vents were still pointed at the fat man. Norman unfastened his seat belt and stood up reaching for the vent. A red clad stewardess appeared. “I’m sorry sir, but the seat belt light is still on. Sit back down and fasten your seat belt until it is safe to move around.” “But, I was just….” She pointed sternly at the light. Norman sat back down and started watching the movie. But, all he could think about was fresh air. Inane dialogue. Air. Bad acting. Air. Underdeveloped characters. Air.
Ding. “We will now begin serving dinner.” Tray tables flipped out. Food was served. At least, it was supposed to be food. To Norman, it smelled awful. It was a cloying, unhealthy smell like the odor of dozens of poorly prepared TV dinners in half a dozen clashing varieties all vying to smell the strongest. What was worse, the fat man had asked for the fish. Norman had always hated that smell. Ever since childhood it had made him sick. There was little air to begin with, and now this. The smell of fish filled his nose. A vision popped into Norman’s head of the fat man’s fish sucking up all the air on the plane and replacing it with putrid fish smell. Norman did not eat dinner.
The second film started. A Time to Kill. Not exactly an uplifting movie to Norman’s way of thinking. He had seen it before and found it to be a very depressing, heavy movie. Heavy. That was the best word for it. The plane rumbled over some turbulence. “How heavy is a plane?” He wondered. Heavy. Novels converted to film. Air. Tense scenes. Heavy. She’s too cute for this movie. Heavy.
By the time the third film started, the plane had crossed into night. The lights were dimmed and more people began to drop off into sleep. Even over the headphones, he could hear people snoring. Even Fat Man was slumbering. As he sank in his chair, his belly spilled out over the armrest and touched Norman’s arm. His snore rolled out from the belly. Norman thought about Fat Man’s fish sucking up the air. Then the fish became Fat Man. Air. “Just watch the movie.”
The third film was Speed, another example of cinematic crap in Norman’s estimation. It did not help Norman’s nerves. There was bad association with bombs and planes, even cinematic bombs were enough for Norman. Bombs. Heavy. Air. Speed. Heavy…
“Stewardess.” Norman called out to the red clad young woman who had told him to sit down about 6 hours ago. “Can I have a bourbon.” She gave him a tiny bottle. “Can we make that two?”
“Having problems with nerves? If you turn to channel 23, we have some relaxation videos playing.” She gave Norman the second bottle and went back up the aisle.
Norman drank the bourbon and changed the channel. A man with a soothing voice was talking. “Breathe. Think of a relaxing place…” Norman, not much of a drinker, felt a warm alcohol wave. He breathed with the man on the screen. Breathe. Air… No! Relax. Relax….
Ding. “This is your captain speaking. We will be beginning our decent in a few minutes. Please return your seats to a full…” Norman opened his eyes and looked around. The Sleeping Lady was awake and had even changed out of her pajamas into regular clothes. Looking around Fat Man and out the window, Norman could see the ground begin to appear closer and closer. “How long was I asleep? Man, I gotta pee.” Norman looked up and saw the seat belt light was on again. “No, I gotta pee.” The seat belt was pressing against his bladder. “Ok. Let’s try that relaxation thing again. Take my mind off it.” Breathe. Relax. Pee. No! Breathe. Breathe…
Ding. “We hope you enjoyed your flight. Please exit the plane in an orderly fashion.
“Thank God. Now, let me off this plane!”
It is a typical flight, although I would have liked some more descripton of the characters, and a bit more emotion, but it was great!
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