Alternatively

Luggage

It was ridiculous how tightly his hands curled around the arm rests.

He was a grown man, he was a marine biologist, he even cooked his own food.

It shouldn't be an issue to fly on a plane.

Percy then rolled his eyes, staring at the window shade in order to distract himself.

If only that were true.

He was twenty three and fresh out of college, currently jobless, and on his way to an interview for an apprentice position his dad had wired. But he could whip up a mean bowl of pasta, that part remained true.

Sighing, his gaze shifted to the seat belt symbol lit up in orange as he tried to ignore the roar of the engines and the pop of his ears as the plane climbed higher in altitude. The flight attendants wouldn't be coming by with beverages until they were at an appropriate height, meaning he wouldn't be getting any water for another ten minutes.

He nearly ripped the armrests off their mounts when the tray next to him slammed down, rigidly turning to look at the pretty blonde stoically pulling out a slender MacBook Pro and situating her materials on the limited space provided. Percy watched in amazement as she began working on...something important without much care to the fact she was thousands of feet in the air. The rest of the cabin was dim and no one spoke above a whisper if they were awake at all, the glow of her screen glinting off her loosely bound curls and flint eyes.

Tilting his head back, he tried to occupy himself with counting the number of seat belt signs that he could see. Busying himself seemed like a good strategy, but what he didn't figure was that eventually he ran out of things to count and he was left to imagine all the awful scenarios.

The plane crashes in the ocean and they all die.

The plane crashes in the forest and they all die.

A zombie outbreak starts in the cockpit and they. All. Die.

Every bump, he gritted his teeth and suppressed the scream of terror building in his gut...along with the remains of his breakfast bar. For the sake of the focused lady next to him, he held back his frantic actions until the orange light went off, the captain's cheery voice announcing it was now safe to roam about the cabin. At that, Percy quickly undid his seat buckle and practically scrambled over his neighbor in a rush to the bathroom.

In case you were wondering, that breakfast bar didn't taste near as good coming up as it did going down.

He was on his knees in front of the nasty toilet, a fist pressed to his nose and a hand pressed to his stomach. Sure, he could have used the barf bag the airline oh so graciously supplied, but he didn't think his stately seat partner would appreciate him yakking up his nerves and stomach while she's trying to work.

Swallowing, he stood up and pressed the tiny button to flush, taking it's instructions to "quickly remove hand from lever after flushing waste" to heart and flung his hand back so fast he accidentally punched himself in the face. Cursing softly, he shuffled over to the sink not two inches from the toilet and stared at himself in the mirror.

Sure enough, a red mark was forming just under his eye, cheekbone pulsing with heat. Rolling his eyes, he made sure there was nothing else on his face before glancing curiously at the modified crapper. When he was younger, this kid insisted that when you flushed, a valve opened at the base of the aircraft and whatever you just did fell through open air. For weeks, Percy fearfully kept an eye on every plane that passed overhead, hoping no one had the runs.

He shoved the door open and stumbled awkwardly into the main body of the craft, thinking on the toilet situation as he made his way as silently as possible back to his seat. A couple more people were awake and doing something or other. Some read books, some messed with phones and tablets, others entertained their kids in order to keep them quiet.