Passenger 27

The sky’s the limit.

It’s the same speech I’ve heard so many times before I could’ve quoted it by heart.

Ladies and gentlemen welcome aboard flight blah, blah, blah.

I stir under the blanket watching the attendants complete their usual song and dance number. A brunette stewardess flashes a mimed smile as she buckles and unbuckles a detached seatbelt she's holding in front of her audience. We study each other for the briefest moment. I know I'll see her later; I’m seated in the exit row. The captain's voice continues over the intercom.

Your seat cushion doubles as a flotation device. If you are not willing to perform any of these duties, please let one of the attendants know, and they'll wait until you're at 30,000 feet and promptly kick your butt right off the plane.

"All your baggage should be stowed in the upper compartments, and ONLY in the upper compartments. During takeoff, until reach cruising altitude, please keep your cell phones and all other electronic devices on vibrate. If you can’t wait to Facebook, until we get up into the air, you probably need a break anyway."

The plane gently rocks free of its resting place and my head rotates on its axis as the plane taxis. There’s a silent continuous beep as the turbines unspool. We’ll pause for a moment, while the pilot squawks at the air traffic controller. I dig my head into the headrest, desperately trying to be comfortable in the airplane seat contraption.

I was a heartbeat away from adjusting the seat when I remembered we were still on the ground.

“So just sit back, relax. The overcast is sunny, and we expect to reach a freeing altitude of forty thousand feet. Once the captain turns off the smoking signs we'll probably be at that altitude.”

The stewardesses hustle to their seats chatting in the little cubical in front of me. The fuselage screams off the runway, and we ascended into the air, feeling weightless. We're canted at an unusually odd angle, with the front end tilted almost vertically into the air. The pilot tells the plane giddy up with the throttle. My guess: is the pilot probably has a hot date where we're landing

The pilot and co-pilot are probably giggling at the steep and abrupt drop from trim adjustments. I love the delicate whirl of pressurized cabins. There’s a serenity to them that is cathartic when coupled with an overhead view of the clouds. My first inclination is to sleep.

The buildings shrink and slowly fade out of view. A patch of clouds sweeps over the plane, rattling it through the turbines. Fortunately, we’re through them as fast as possible and free as a bird. Above the clouds, there is open air. It’s quiet now and there's nothing like the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Outside the window, the sun is picturesque in its orbit. The view was just what I needed. I hear an accent behind me, so loud I can't help eavesdropping. You tell him girl, as long as it stops before I begin to seriously try to sleep.

DING!

“You’re now free to roam about the cabin.” Says a voice over the intercom. As if on cue, clicking fills the cabin as the lights dim. I look over and notice a guy fiddling with his iPod. I can tell by the way his hand stays glued to his lip, he’s anxious about flying, but he keeps his facade up.

“Is this your first flight?” I ask. He stares out the window at the sun, and then at the monitor in front of him.

“Sure,” he says sheepishly.

“It’s ok, I get nervous sometimes too.” I nudge the headrest with the side of my face, unclipping the remote in the armrest. The plastic wrap covering the earbuds gets shoved into the pocket on the back of the seat in front of me. I can finally let my seat down, as I squeeze a tiny earbud into my ear and slide my shoes off under the seat.

The selection of movies is redundant they all seem novel in flight, after I've seen them many times over. I'll still pick Herbie.

"Have you seen that one?" asks my seat companion. The side of my seat depresses slightly, and there's a voice from my right. It's the stewardess, at this distance, I smell her light perfume.

“Would you like something to drink?” She asks. Suddenly, the plane shakes.

LUB DUB.

It’s not her, my heart doesn’t like air turbulence.

"What do you recommend?"

"Pepsi products, orange juice, I got the whole arrangement."

"I will take the whole arrangement." We connect for a moment, then I become serious and ask her for coffee.

"Cream and Sugar?"

"Please and thank you." She smiles at me.

LUB DUB.

There's turbulence again, and the plane bucks like a bronco out the gate. The captain hasn't taken to the intercom yet, so I assume we're all good.