Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Airplane Blues

            “How long do you think it’ll take until we have Star Trek transporters?” I tried to move my feet, which were wedged under my hot pink backpack, which was wedged under the seat in front of me pursuant to airline safety regulations. My knees collided with the seat back. I rubbed the bruise on my left knee and tried to stop squirming.

            “A century or two.” My husband grunted as I accidently poked him in the side with my bony elbow.

            “I don’t think I can wait that long.”

            “We’ve been on this plane for at least 50 years already. It shouldn’t be too hard for us to make it another 50.”

            “I’m afraid it only seems like we’ve been on this plane for 50 years. You know how time flies when you’re having fun.”

            “Are we having fun, then?” he asked.

            I sighed. “Not really. How much longer till we get there?” I sounded like a whiny little kid. I’d finished the book I’d brought, eaten an interesting concoction of chicken and rice, and watched the first 10 minutes of one of the movie selections. Bo-ring.

            “The entire flight is 8 hours and 50 minutes. That leaves approximately…7 hours to go.”

            I truly wished I hadn’t asked, because I really didn’t want to know. It’s at times like these that I envied the passengers around me who were happily snoring away. I cannot sleep on a plane.

            My husband settled into his seat, adjusted his noise-cancelling headphones, and went back to watching what appeared to be a movie designed specifically for an audience of thirteen year old boys. He chuckled out loud as the college freshmen nerds plotted revenge against the fraternity athletes who were harassing them by dunking their heads into toilets. As a rule, girls don’t get the whole “swirly” humor thing. I am not an exception.

            I sat for a moment, debating my next course of action. It was awfully early in the flight to break out the emergency stash of chocolate.

            The man sitting in front of me leaned his seat back as far as it would go. There was now a whopping 6 inches between my nose and his seat. And I’d thought I was uncomfortable before.

            Time to throw caution to the wind and break out the chocolate. I’d just have to make it last another…um…six hours and 55 minutes. Heavy sigh.