Playing With Fire || d.h

89. California

The eleven hour flight is one of the most monotonous events I've ever had to partake in.

Hour One: Dan stares at me, an amused expression painted on his face as I watch the ground disappear below us, shaking ecstatically. Now that the medicine has kicked in, I don't have a worry in the world. I plug in my headphones and choose a movie as Dan closes his eyes next to me. As he dozes off, I can't help but videotape the sunrise from my window. You can call it cliche, but its definitely one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

Hour Two: The movie I watch is quite good, and Dan is knocked out beside me.

Hour Three: My movie finishes, and Dan is still asleep. As much as I want to wake him, I decide its not worth him being grumpy on our first day in Los Angeles. I scroll through the movies the plane has to offer, many of which I haven't had the chance to see yet.

Hour Four: Every movie I come upon seems boring, or maybe its just because I'm restless. Whatever it is, I decide to play music from my phone, attempting to get a bit of sleep.

Hour Five: After around half an hour, I'm successfully able to fall asleep.

Hour six: I'm woken up by someone aggressively nudging me, and turn to see Dan, along with a stewardess.

"They're taking orders for our meal," Dan informs me, an amused grin playing on his lips. "What do you want?"

I rub my eyes, still trying to get myself to wake up. "What...what are the options?' I ask groggily.

"Pancakes and your choice of meat, eggs, toast, and your choice of meat, or a muffin with your choice of meat," the waitress immediately answers monotonously.

"...Pancakes," I reply, the first thing that comes to mind. "With...with sausage."

She writes down my order, before walking to the seat behind us. I stretch, yawning dramatically, and Dan laughs beside me. I only shoot him a glare, lying back in my seat.

"How much longer?" I ask in the middle of a yawn, my eyes squeezed shut.

"Um...five hours," Dan answers, checking the screen in front of him. I check my own, and realize not only does it tell me the time left of our flight, but also a little animation of our plane flying over the Atlantic ocean.

"Aw, cute," I sigh, still in a bit of a tired daze. Dan chuckles as I lie my head on his shoulder, turning so I can watch out the plane window.

Hour Seven: They still haven't brought us the food, but I can't blame them, considering how many people are on this plane. However, some people can't seem to get it through their mind that this place is run by stewards, not magicians. I've been listening to the mom in front of me shouting at one of a stewardess.

"If I knew it would take this long to get my food, I would've just brought my own!" She yells, and I nearly laugh as spit flies from her mouth. Everyone is watching her, yet she doesn't seem to notice.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, we had to take everyone's orders, and there's a lot of food to put together," the stewardess replies, and I have to be impressed by her ability to remain calm.

The woman visibly rolls her eyes, huffing heavily. "Then you should've ordered our food earlier! This is ridiculous!"

"Ma'am, I'm sure that when the food is finished, we'll have it out as soon as we can," the stewardess doesn't seem to miss a beat, and I realize this probably isn't the first angry passenger she's had to deal with.

Someone calls the stewardess to the back cabin, and that's her cue to leave. She gives the woman a last reassurance, before walking away, a bit more rushed than normal.