Connecting Flight
I was sitting in the window seat on a flight from Atlanta to Houston. The weather was picture-perfect when we took off from Hartsfield-Jackson at 11:55. But somewhere along the way the sky turned dark. We entered a black cloud with lightning bolts biting at the wing. The plane was bouncing around and my stomach echoed every upward and downward movement of the aircraft.
This wasn’t my first flight. My job had required a lot of travel—did until I got fired. My company handed me the pink slip after I came to the office high on OxyContin for the third time in a month. I’d tried to tell them it was a prescription for pain. Truth was, I had no prescription. I’d bought the stuff off the street.
So I was on the plane back to Houston, back to my beautiful wife. What would I tell her? She knew nothing of my addiction.
I’d gotten a job transfer to South Carolina six months earlier, and we’d just bought a million-dollar home on Pawleys Island—with a near million-dollar mortgage. Carrie was planning our move to her dream home.
The plane suddenly took a dive, much like my life had. I’d been in some less than perfect skies before, but this one was foul weather on steroids.
I hadn’t noticed the guy next to me until we came out of a downward dive. Maybe he had been in the restroom. He was wearing an Armani suit with a Vineyard Vines Bone Fish tie. While I was holding my breath and had a Vice Grip grasp on the armrest, he was engrossed in a game on his IPad. The plane leveled out and I relaxed a bit. “Sir,” I said, “doesn’t all this turbulence bother you?”
He looked up from his game. “No, why should it?”
His taciturn attitude annoyed me. A crude word slipped from my tongue. “Look… we’ve just been bounced all over the blazing firmament, and you’ve been sitting there playing games!”
He laid his IPad down and placed his hand lightly on top of mine, which was still gripping the armrest. “I don’t think I got your name—ˮ
“It’s Tom.” I could be as tight-lipped as he was.
“Well, Tom, it’s like this. Why worry about something you have no control over? Take a chill pill, man.”
I needed more than a chill pill. His hand was still on mine; tapping it lightly—disturbing for sure. I pulled my hand out from under his and pretended to massage my neck muscles. “Don’t they have any alcohol on this plane?”
“Not on this one, he said.”
Lightning split the sky and struck the left wing. The plane careened sharply to the right, then dropped fiercely. Both of my hands clamped down on my upper legs. My stomach was rock hard.
The plane continued to tilt to the right. I found myself leaning across the chair arm into this guy’s space. It seemed the plane was about to engage in a death roll. Twenty years of my life, along with all the bad decisions I’d ever made, passed before me in a fiery kaleidoscope of regret.
Plunging to the ground would be short. Hopefully no pain. Then I thought about Carrie. Maybe she wouldn’t even have to find out about my habit. Maybe she’d never know I got fired from my job. I ducked my head down between my knees, preparing for the big tumble to the ground.
The plane leveled out and eventually blue sky appeared through my window. I flopped back in the seat, my head slammed against the headrest. But relief was fleeting. A mountain of guilt ushered back in. How did I go from graduating summa cum laude from Virginia Tech and marrying Miss Alabama to being hooked on painkillers and losing my good job?
I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Tom, you alright?”
For the first time, our eyes met. The guy was suddenly more than a fancy suit and tie. An instant bond seemed to be forming. Odd, because I’d made up my mind I just really didn’t care for him.
I took a breath and finally managed to say, “Yeah. I think so. But it’s more than just this plane that’s in a lot of turbulence.”
He raised one eyebrow, his eyes never leaving me. “Tom when life gets out of your control, you need to whisper a prayer, then sit back, relax and allow the Big Man upstairs to take the wheel.”
Yeah, right! Talk is easy. I glanced down at my tight fists and immediately back toward my seatmate. The chair was empty. I looked up and down the aisle.
The man was gone.
Enjoy the journey
Eldon
Eldon Reed ©2015