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“There isn’t one of the thirty-five people on this plane I’d trust with my life.”

He was uncomfortable with that information, especially coming from one of the flight attendants. She had unfolded a seat from the wall across from him and they sat knee to knee, like Couples Counseling. It was a night flight with few people and her closeness was unsettling. Her eyes skipped over everything around them - peanut on the floor, seatbelts fastened, a man reaching up three rows behind him - before her attention landed on his face.

“You shouldn’t eat the peanuts.”

He glanced to the stray nut on the floor near his shoe and moved his foot. If he hadn’t been so nervous about flying Now (as opposed to Then) it might have sounded Motherly. Now it was ominous. Creepy. Who was this woman who serves coffee and bottled water? He looked at her like a caged lizard he could observe but not understand. She could have been his Best Friend in High School, now the Message was Evil Nuts.

“My father choked once on a plane nut and almost died. They’re small but if one goes down the wrong way, that thing can kill you.”

Another Thing. Bombs. Terrorists. Businessmen snapping. Toenail clippers. Peanuts. He tried to smile politely without implying her Father’s Drama was Good News. The plane lurched from the ground and the peanut snuck closer like a ground snake. He wanted to say something but held his fear on his tongue.

Safety Videos began playing on screens which popped from the ceiling. Here is a final memory of what People once looked like on Planes. Men and women who spurned peanuts. Here, before you explode in Your Worst Nightmare, is a reminder of what you lost. He hung on the instructions but doubted his skills. Could he watch a child gasp for oxygen while arranging his mask first? He felt unqualified to fly any longer.

He acted like Traveling Passenger. He wore something he’d wear on a date, nodding to the Attendants lined at the door like Nurses leading old people to the TV Room. Traveling Passenger resolutely found his seat while his Ghost Self wandered, unsure which room to haunt. Frantic? Calm? Happy? Traveling Passenger was ProActive Aviation, making a choice about the future of the airways while thwarting plans to destroy Our Country. Traveling Passenger left tweezers at home. Ghost Self examined the emergency door handles and pictured himself being sucked into the atmosphere. He was now free to move about the cabin.

After the Flight Attendant rose, he watched her prepare the drink cart. Her actions were those of adults - preparing, organizing - and he felt childish but he guessed they were the same age. They could have been schoolmates sharing class and talking over lunch about her Older Boyfriend. He would have met her mother and thought how pretty she must have been as a girl.

His was the last row to be served. Friends was on the screen and mute blue lit up the empty seats. She sat across from him again and he nearly shouted “Diet Pepsi!”. Instead, she spoke in a secret whisper.

“Have you ever been afraid to die? I would get fired for saying this to you but I had a picture before this flight that something was going to happen. I’ve been flying for 20 years and this is my job. I can’t be scared. I can’t let them think someone they depend on is afraid. I can’t do that, my family counts on me. I can’t let them know I can’t click.”

He felt lifted from his body by her outburst. It was hard for him to fathom the words did not shoot like Ping-Pong balls from his forehead to bounce off her mouth. He wasn’t prepared for this blast of emotion and his first instinct was to burst into tears. Traveling Passenger insisted he freeze. Ghost Self, however, drifted towards her.

“Does your husband know?”

He willed her to reply that yes, her husband did know. In fact, at that moment he was home with the children. They were making snacks before sitting to watch Friends.

“No. No, are you kidding? He’d freak. He’s the last one who wants to hear I’m... like this.”

What was she like? He felt as clueless as those she lived with, quickly looking for signs in her appearance that might reveal her deception.

“Well...“, he began hesitantly, “you look pretty.”

Her eyes flared and she leaned back. He felt like he’d failed. She’d brought her neurotic pregnancy to birth at the table of a complete stranger and the best he could extract was Glib Observation. She glanced him over quickly before offering “Nice socks.”

“Thanks.”

“And we don’t have Pepsi. It’s Coke.” She stood and began filling a cup with ice.

“Listen” he said, grabbing her hand. Traveling Passenger would not violate Personal Space. He felt her smooth skin and imagined waves of comfort echoing between their bodies, coating their fear with wool blankets. He did not know who he was now. Traveling Passenger was scanned for weapons but had no better grasp of fear than Ghost Self. She sat back down, their faces leaning forward like two compadres in a smoky bar.

“It’s not easy pretending you have your shit together. Everyone thinks you’re a hero and you do what heroes do in a jam, you act human.”

The hollow bell-but-not-a-bell rang signaling they had lost their freedom to roam the cabin. She sealed her eyes to his.

“Is acting Human the best we get?”




1:01:24 PM    sro home /