I unbutton my suit coat and fold it neatly for storage in the overhead compartment. I immediately wonder why I wore it onto the plane fully knowing I would need to remove it in order to preserve its crisp well-pressed shape upon landing. I settle into an aisle seat. 11B is where I will remain for the next hour or so. A short flight, but one I now wish I would have sprung a first class ticket for. I’m not a snob. I don’t mind rubbing elbows with people from all walks of life. I just enjoy a little leg room. A man needs to stretch some before committing to a group of fancy government officials breathing down his neck for the next 48 hours. Mental rest and relaxation does not exist when I travel to DC for work. And as my knees hit the back of the seat in front of me, I soon realize that physical R&R won’t be had either.
I grab my copy of SkyMaul and begin to flip thru, trying to pass the boring boarding time. I gaze up watching as each passenger files in, one by one, taking their respective seat. Ever since 9-11, my attention is drawn to locating where the lit up emergency exit signs are...you know, just in case. I observe the whereabouts of heavy metal serving carts that could substitute as shields or weapons, if God forbid something terrible should erupt. Post 9-11 days, I’m more aware of who gets up to use the bathroom. Who looks nervous, who has an attitude, who is overly kind or just suspicions in any way. I’m surveying the plane and making a mental note of anything out of the ordinary. It never hurts to be a little paranoid, right? I’m not afraid to fly. I’m just realistic.
I usually smirk during the overhead announcement that instructs how my seat cushion can be used as a flotation device. How I should politely inform a flight attendant if the crazy dude 2 rows back has a homemade bomb strapped to his chest and is reciting some religious babble to himself in a foreign language. How I should help other passengers out of the plane when flames are shooting from inside the cockpit . Tell me again how I should use my oxygen mask when the plane loses cabin pressure and I freeze in a moment of confusion due to those around me screaming in pure terror that we are all going to die!
In the event of a real emergency, they want you to remain seated and to stay calm. Basically, they want you to sit down and shut up as the plane spirals out of control and plunges into the earth at 300mph. Rrrrright. I’ll try to remember that. Truth be told, if it’s my time to go, then I’ll go. If the plane is going down, I really don’t want to be the sole survivor. It would freak me out to no end knowing that everyone else was meant to die except me. I couldn’t come to grasps as to why I was spared, why I was so special, why I was left to tell this tale.
It’s just pass 6AM and we are about to take off. I close my eyes and lean my head back. Once again, I lack sleep from the prior night due to my continuous battle with insomnia. Perhaps the rumble of the engine will soothe me like a lullaby. Just as my eyelids grow heavy, it hits me, the sweet scent of flowers. It’s a light welcoming fragrance that blows thru the cabin where the only air circulating before came from two irritated Japanese business men coughing in my direction. I begin to perk up a bit. I come fully to my senses when I see the prettiest little frame and face to match. “I’m 10A” she says standing over me with a motion to scoot by. I think to myself “Oh yeah, you’re a 10 alright.”
I rise and stand to the side so she can take her seat next to me. Long blonde hair brushes against my chest as she slides by. She smells heavenly and I've always been a sucker for pretty girls with luring scents. She turns and thanks me with a flirty smile. She has a great smile too? I’ve hit the jackpot! Just as I was cooling down, she is heating things back up again. I’m not complaining though. And I’m definitely now thankful I’m “stuck” in coach. Not to worry, I will be cool and calm. I'll remain seated and in an upright position.
That breath of fresh air has arrived. It’s going to be a good flight.
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