"Ironically, I never thought I would die in a flying metal tube next to a 90 year old with anxiety problems that looks like she just got done with an episode of The Golden Girls."
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"Miss, it's a safety procedure. You cannot go through unless you go through the metal detector." The airport officer gave me a tired look.
"Tell me, what's so safe about going through a metal tube to get onto another metal tube that flies?" I asked him obnoxiously.
My school just had to book the flight at 3:00 in the morning. I couldn't care less whether or not the officer let me through. I didn't want to go anyways.
He sighed and motioned me through again. I didn't move.
"Ms. Keith, can we please get a move on?!" My Italian teacher shouted to me from the other side of the metal detector.
"I don't think so", I recalled back to him, "Not without a few muscle relaxers first,"I added in a whisper.
"You will fail my class if you do not pick up your feet and walk!" He said more rushed this time as he looked down at his watch.
"Pfft fine!" I whined as I threw my bag onto the conveyer belt and stomped through.
I got past on the first try. It seemed like a blessing to my teacher, and the airport officer. Now it was just the part about getting on a metal tube, that I am suppose to trust with my life.... easy right?
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To sit in your own sweat for 30 minuets, waiting for a gate to open for a plane, is just my idea of fun. As I sit with Last Day On Earth blaring on full volume all I can see is my body falling to my death. With these beautiful imagines flashing through my mind, I see that my gate opens. Great, just great. So with clammy hands and a racing heart I use all my will to get up off this coffee and who knows what stained chair and walk towards my death.
By some miracle my legs support me all the way to the plane. As I step on the plane, just one last final decision, to pick the seat that will mark my death bed. I go for the back of the plane, I want an aisle seat so I don't have to see the safe, wonderful ground slip away. I go to the very, very back of the plane and sit next to an old women who I didn't think would bother me. As I sit I just focus on deep breaths. In. Out. In. O-
"Is this seat t-taken?" A tall man with a comb over stutters out.
"I don't think so," I reply not looking up from my feet.
As he sits I notice that he is covered in more sweat than me, that in itself is an accomplishment.
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Ironically, I never thought I would die in a flying metal tube next to a 90 year old with anxiety problems that looks like she just got done with an episode of The Golden Girls. But sitting here smashed between Miss. Betty White and a stressed out business man, who looked like he could use 10 times stronger deodorant and a bull tranquilizer, I was pretty sure I was. Turns out the little old lady I thought would be a peaceful, quiet companion had more anxiety problems than an OCD person in a hoarder house. And this damned buisness man just had to run his selling qoute over and over under his breath, making me go absolutly insane. So here I am, at the age 16, doing Hail Mary's and praying I won't die.
"Passengers, at this time would you please fasten your seat-belts, we will be taking off shortly."
And so the fun begins.
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Authors note
New book comment what you think!
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Just a trip
RomansaI, Katey Marie Kieth, have been taken, against my will, on a trip to Italy. None of my friends are going, the only people I have are the nerds in my Italian class. To make it worse, I'm going to a city of love right after a break up. What could poss...
