Flying Leap

“Girl, sit your skinny ass down and put your damn seatbelt on before I call your mama and tell her you still stupid.” I look up. It’s the attractive yet imposing flight attendant that Jim said looked like Viola Davis in The Help. Thank god she didn’t hear him.

“Yes, ma’am,” I squeak. I look at her name tag. Marla. “I’m just waiting for my friend. He went to the bathroom.”

She rolls her eyes. “You gonna tell me what his shit smell like, too?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then sit. Down.”

Just then I see Jim coming up the aisle toward us. I’ve never been so relieved to see his goofy mug. “There he is!”

Marla eyeballs him as he reaches our row. “Well look who’s finally back. Did you have trouble finding your pee pee?” A few passengers near us snicker.

Jim puts on his best indignant face. “I’ll have you know, madame, his name is Mr. Schnitzel and he was right where I left him!”

Marla isn’t phased. “Get in your damn seat.”

I move aside, allowing Jim to scooch past me to take his spot by the window, careful not to make eye contact with our tormentor. Once we’re both buckled in, he flashes a huge smile at Marla and looks at her expectantly.

She doesn’t disappoint. “What are you smiling at, boy? Pointing them nasty yellow teeth at me! I hope you flying to see a dentist!”

Jim guffaws. He does his best impersonation of a British pauper. “Thank you! May I have another?”

With another roll of the eyes, Marla disappears.

When Jim invited himself to accompany me to my tax conference in Phoenix—and offered to pay for our tickets—I should’ve known he was up to something. Little did I know he had booked us on Flying Leap, the airline that intentionally hurls insults at you and treats you like garbage in general—all the name of “good fun.” By the time he told me, we had already checked our bags and it was too late for me to rebook with another carrier.

“Dude, I think you’re annoying her for real now.”

“Nah, it’s all part of the schtick! Did I miss anything when I was gone?”

“She called me stupid. But she also called my ass skinny, so. That was nice.”

Jim giggles into one of his fists. “I love it! Hey, did you see the baggage guy giving us the finger as we boarded? I mean they really thought of everything!” He looks around the cabin as if said baggage guy would pop out at any moment to make a rude gesture with his balls.

“Yeah, it’s great,” I deadpan. “What do you get out of people insulting you, anyway? Are you some kind of masochist?”

“Maybe. Punch me and let’s find out!” He juts his jaw toward me. I grimace and push his bearded face away with my palm.

“Seriously,” I continue, looking around at the other seemingly normal passengers. “What’s wrong with all these people? Do they not have enough stress in their lives?”

“Would you just relax? It’s fun! We’re lucky to be here. These flights sell out in like a day.”

“Hold on. Are you telling me some of these people don’t even need to be traveling right now?”

“I keep telling you. It’s entertainment.” He pronounces each syllable of “entertainment” as if they were separate words. I suddenly can’t stand the sight of him so I turn away.

Ahead of me, the little male flight attendant makes his way down the aisle carrying a basket of snacks. He casually flips bags of pretzels at each passenger, pausing now and then to insult their shoes, then stops conspicuously at our row. He puts his free hand on his hip and eyeballs me. I read his name tag. George.

Oh god. He senses my weakness. Please let it be quick. I scrunch down in my seat and hold my breath.

“This your wife?” he asks Jim, cocking his head toward me.

“That would be a negative, my good man. We’re just friends. We go way back,” Jim replies, giving the guy way too much fodder.

“Oh good,” George sighs. “I was going to say if it weren’t for your face, hair, and body, you could do much better.” And with that, he sashays on down the aisle to a light smatter of applause and chuckles. I exhale with relief. A stock burn. And at least I wasn’t the only victim.

Jim cannot hide his delight. “Oh man. This is the only way I’m going to travel from now on.” He watches George continue down the line then suddenly gasps. “Wait a second. He didn’t give us our snacks.”

“That’s okay. We’re grabbing lunch as soon as we land,” I remind him.

“No, hold on.” His eyes light up. “Everyone else got some. We should get ours!” He’s beaming. He doesn’t really want the snacks. He wants the confrontation.

“Jim, don’t…” I plead. But he is already unbuckled and halfway standing.

“Excuse me!” he calls out. “Sir? Yeah, we didn’t get our snacks.”

The plane goes silent. I can feel all eyes on us. I make myself as small as possible. Sure enough, moments later, George is standing next to me.

“You want your snacks, do you?” he says through a pinched smile.

Jim is grinning like an idiot. “Yes, I do!”

Marla catches wind of our curfuffle and joins George. Now the three of them are standing in a triangle over me, Marla and George to my left, Jim to my right. I scrunch down so far, I’m practically on the floor.

“This sorry excuse for a human wants his snacks,” George fills Marla in.

“Oh?” She folds her arms over her chest and squints at Jim. “What makes you think you deserve a snack?”

Jim shrugs. “Everyone else got some and I demand to be treated fairly!” He’s showboating. God help us.

The attendants look at each other.

“Listen here, little Grizzly Adams,” Marla starts. “We decide who gets snacks, you hear me? Or do you have too much wax in your ears?”

“Oh, he can hear you,” George chimes in. “He’s just too dumb to understand.”

Jim snorts with laughter and looks around to see if everyone else is enjoying this as much as he is.

“Oh, he dumb all right,” Marla continues. “I can tell by the shape of his head that his mama dropped him a few too many times.”

George jumps in. “Oh, you mean the one who gives her clients punch cards to the free clinic? That mama?”

“That’s the one.”

“At least she has a good work ethic!” George chuckles and Marla joins in. It’s the first time I’ve seen them laugh. Instead of reciting rote insults, they seem to be riffing and actually enjoying themselves.

“He’s probably familiar with those punch cards. Ain’t no woman in her right mind gonna get with that for free.” Marla flips a fingertip in Jim’s direction. “No, he got to pay to get any action. Even the two-dollar hoes charge him four dollars!” She looks at me. “No offense, girl.”

“Oh, they’re not together,” George informs her.

“Oh, okay. So he can’t get a woman. I’m not surprised. We got a live forty-year-old virgin here!” she announces to the whole plane. Laughter rolls through the cabin.

“For your information,” Jim says haughtily, “I used to be married.”

Oh god. He’s giving them more ammo.

Marla and George look at each other, eyes lighting up.

“So you were dumped!” George exclaims.

“Well, obviously,” Marla flicks her hair back. “Ain’t no way he left her—no matter how nasty she was. She must have found something better.”

I look at Jim. His smile weakens just a bit and he shifts his weight. Marla and George don’t know that eight months ago, Jim’s wife left him for another man.

“Something better? You mean like a neanderthal?” George offers.

The two of them break into giggles.

“Yeah,” Marla snorts. “They probably making little cave babies right now!”

Marla and George also don’t know that Jim’s wife was pregnant (not his) when she left him.

Jim is not smiling at all now. And I’m not the only one who notices.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Marla asks. “We hit a nerrrve?”

“Ooo,” George puckers. “I think we did.”

Marla gives Jim another once-over. “Let’s leave the poor sap alone. We got more important things to do. Oh.” She stops and looks Jim in the eye, “Unless you have something else to say.”

The whole cabin leans in. You can hear a cotton ball drop.

Jim purses his lips, looks at the ceiling, and shakes his head. And with that, Marla and George are gone, leaving a wake of whispers and snickers behind them.

Stone-faced, Jim slowly sits back down. As he buckles his seatbelt, a bag of pretzels hits him in the head. I turn around and see George saluting us with his basket of snacks, wearing a cheese-eating grin.

For the next few minutes, Jim sits quietly looking out his window at the arid plains below. Finally, he turns to me. “You know, I just remembered I have a ton of miles saved up at United,” he says brightly. “Maybe I’ll book our return flight with them! Save us some money.”

“That’s a great idea, Jim,” I say. “Saving money is good.”