Once Upon a Plane Flight

Chapter Two

I sit down on the edge of one of the plastic chairs that are bolted to the floor. It smells of multiple perfumes and some sort of industrial soap. Thirty feet away, another person sits in an identical chair. He seems to have been sitting there for awhile; sat lazily, looking at his phone while his fingers dance about it. He has one ear bud placed in his ear while the other settles on his chest.

I grip the edge of my chair as the overly perky voice comes on the intercom, "This is the final boarding call for the passengers on flight 432 to Texas."

A few people stand up and leave, probably heading toward the gate for the flight that was just called. I look to my left to see a struggling mother trying to calm her crying baby while the children next to her play on whatever the popular electronic device is this week. Directly in front of me is an old couple holding hands and smiling at one another. The scene makes me believe that love lasts and I smile at the thought.

I look down at the ticket in my hand and try to memorize the number of my flight; 221. It doesn't leave until five but I want to be ready when it does; about two more hours to go. Why did I get here so early again?

"First flight?" I jump at the closeness of this male-sounding stranger's lips to my ear.

Once I got over what resembled a mini heart attack and possible whiplash from turning my head so fast—it's plausible that I dented both of our skulls when we bumped our heads together—I answered him by saying, "Yeah." I gripped my aching forehead while he groaned and then laughed at my simple response.

After the black dots ceased from clouding my vision, I noticed that it was the guy that sat thirty feet away from me just seconds ago.

"I'm Lyle." he stated, offering his hand to me.

I took it and shook it three times while saying, "Katie. Sorry about that."

"No worries. I'll just take a quick stop at the hospital after my flight lands. Make sure I don't have any signs of a concussion." he joked.

"Now you're making me feel bad." I said while pouting.

"At least I took your mind off of the flight."

"Thanks for reminding me." I sarcastically replied.

"Are you really that nervous?"

"I just keep thinking, 'what if something goes wrong and we crash?'"

"You watch too much TV." he laughed out, slightly shaking his head at the remark.

I have no response to his comment so I direct my eyes to my lap and stay silent.

"So..." he trails off, "Are going on a business trip or..."

"I'm visiting some of my family."

"Oh, that should be fun." he states.

"Yeah." I say nodding my head. Then it occurred to me, "Do you just sit in here all day and make conversation with random people for a living?"

He laughed at my accusation and replied, "If I did would it be so weird?"

"More like creepy, but yeah weird."

"Well that's good then. Now I can't be considered creepy or weird." I gave him a confused look, so he explained it as if he was talking to a five year old, "I don't work with random strangers as a conversationalist." I nodded in understanding.

We kept talking for the remainder of the two hours before my flight. Stories were past back and forth and if there was ever a break in the conversation Lyle would make some terrible joke that sparked it up again. At some point, I got comfortable enough not to jump at every sound I heard and stopped sitting at the edge of my chair and actually relaxed, it was quite refreshing not to be paranoid all the time.