Flying Home

Bi-monthlyish I board a Southwest Airline flight from Pittsburgh Int’l to Baltimore Washington Int’l heading home from performing scheduled relationship maintenance on my long distance relationship.

 Note: state of mind was in bliss but the body was tired.

I ease into the first free seat which happened to be in the third row with a “decent” enough looking gentleman positioned at the window. This was an okay situation because there was an empty seat separating us (or so I thought).

My unexpected detour to the funny-farm soon began:

Who turns around and introduces himself on a thirty-two minute flight? (Crazy people – that’s who!)

CrazyMan – In the creepiest “rain-man” voice with black piercing serial killer eyes directed at me “Hiiii, My Name is Jooohnnnn” I’d be damned if I was shaking his hand. But silly me did give him my real name (okay I was slipping – see above: mind still in bliss !! (that woman of mine is so intoxicating , thinking of her I could have been slashed in my seat.)

I’m not fooled by this white man’s close shaven face, well pressed navy blue business suit or his pearly white caps  – this dude is crazy like a fox!

Two seconds later and just before the “happy” male flight attendant in the fitted blue logoed button down collared shirt and tan shorts which were so tight that they were leaving blood red lines across his thighs announced that the cabin doors were closing and all electronics needed to be turned off, I came to my senses enough to quickly broadcast text that I was sitting next to a looney-toon.

I was more than concerned or frantic I was scared!

Pause in situation:

I notice an elderly lady struggling to place her roller bag in the overhead compartment, so I do the Boy Scout thing and assist the golden girl. She was a frail old broad with blue hair wearing dockers and a red cardigan. She was amazingly receptive of the help I offered. Not just because she was of the pale complexion but with  that in conjunction with my dark negro skin, bald head, hip/hop flavor “baggy” jeans, hooded sweatshirt and big black boots – I would have understood some apprehension on her part.

Back to Michael Myers aka Jooohnnnn –

So I slide back into my seat as smooth as possible not trying to make direct eye contact with the asylum escapee. But as soon as I look up after buckling my seatbelt I am met with the grin of an adult Cheshire cat. At this moment I realize that I am going to die. His tie had come off and now I can see that his eyes were red and “veiny”. He begins his transformation into Mr. Hyde.

Ridiculous thoughts are entering my head at this point … did I tell all the necessary people that I love them the last time I saw them? Did I make my bed up before I left home three days ago, why the hell are there so many Law & Order spin-offs and episodes etc… just nonsense.

For the first few minutes of the flight I burned a hole into the head rest in front me – I refused to look at this lunatic, I couldn’t risk turning my head too far or closing my eyes because I needed to keep him in my peripheral. I had the air on full blast Stifling myself, I wasn’t about to fall asleep inviting my very own ‘nightmare” on Elm street thirty-thousand feet in the air.

Then comes the familiar tone over the loudspeaker signaling passengers that it was now safe to move about the aircraft. I relaxed a little knowing that if I wanted to I could get up and hide out in the bathroom until the plane prepares to descend. My concentration was broken when my favorite flight attendant announces that he was coming around to take drink orders. They offered a variety of drinks: water, coca-cola branded sodas, juices and alcohol.

A L C O H O L … I hope Jeffrey Dahmer doesn’t drink!  ….   …   Ah hell he does!

Maybe I should have a drink with him and perhaps he will think I’m cool and spare my life. Hmm – Hey flight “bouy” the first round is on me. Wait a minute I’m not going out like that. Eff a serial killer and this cheap ass four dollar wine, I’m from SE DC! If he says another word to me Im’ma flick off.

Have you ever tried to gain your ghetto confidence on an airplane with a “slasher’ sitting beside you drinking alcohol? Let me tell you, it ain’t easy if at all possible. I admit here that I didn’t succeed in finding mine on that flight. But I didn’t lose all hope, just some.

Fast-forward … three miniature bottles of white wine a Heineken and a small cup of water later John and I were exchanging email addresses and promising to get together in a few weeks when we are both scheduled to fly back same flight.

I’m not going back on my initial interpretation of John “the Baptist”, my new friend — only crazy people strike up conversations with strangers. Maybe I need to evaluate my own sanity.

FYI – You will never hear about John again ! I’d never really  give out my personal contact information to a total stranger.!

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~ by blkirish on January 18, 2008.

3 Responses to “Flying Home”

  1. The next time you are here (for “maintenance”), we are going to have a discussion about the difference between fact and fiction. Dear.

  2. You are an entertaining writer but you need to learn the value of a good scowl on the face when riding next to Charles Manson on a plane. Watch ya back!

  3. My hubby and I are frequent travelers and I sooooo know your story. My hubby readily puts his DC face on and will not engage even a glance. Sweet little planned community me will talk to just about anyone even if it scares the poopies out of me. I feel like I attract those types. I’ve gotten tears with life stories to the psycho I hope he doesn’t follow me off the plane type to the precocious chatty child traveling alone type. I think we have higher expectations of the demographic when traveling by plane as opposed to Greyhound, but I wonder if it’s more similar than we’d imagine…

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