Thrust and Drag

by Littlebit on This and That

You are on your way to Boston from Bangkok. Because it was a free ticket from your mother, you must fly her airline, the World Routes Map of which resembles twisted strands of spaghetti on a plate. Never mind; you're going to be brave and not whine because it is vacation time, and that fact alone can convince you that the forecasted 26 hours of flight time and the numerous stopovers the airline requires so the pilots can swig beer and exchange girls-in-every-port jokes-these things seem distant and insignificant. You are Bound for Fun and Frolic with Family and Friends, and it's Free!

On the flight to Narita, Japan, you are seated next to a man who looks like he inhaled a metric ton of the Milky Way Galaxy and chased it down with guava juice, after which he became extremely constipated for 35 years. His elbows spill over his armrest. The rest of him do not stay within his seat, either. His elbow, feeling like a Zeppelin, squeakily pokes your arm. You clear your throat. He looks over at you with something like contemplation in his eyes, so you feel hopeful. After a moment of hesitation, while you begin to think kind thoughts again, he says, "Hey, kiddo, if you're not having your roll, pass it over, okay?"

All right, so the six hours to Japan consists of frequent trips to the lavatories, the galley, the lap of the tired old businessman who thinks you are a good-sized pillow. Anything to get away from Mr. I-Swallowed-the-Milky-Way. It isn't such a big deal! Many passengers on transcontinental airliners suffer much, much worse.

For instance, take the trip to Mexico, when you were a kid. Your friend Christina, one of the lucky ones, promptly fell asleep after the takeoff. You sat. And sat. And sat. And couldn't sleep. So you decided to roam the cabin in search of…something to do besides try to sleep unsuccessfully. Imagine your delight when you looked out the window beside the right wing and spied a long, thin object stuck to the wing, which was flapping. Ah, something insteresting at last, you thought with glee. You edged closer to the window…what was it? A decorative ribbon? An aerodynamically designed decorative ribbon? A flying tapeworm? Super tapeworm, helping Aero Mexico Get There On Time? Ha ha ha. Imagine then your utter speechlessness when, face squashed against the window glass and squinting, you realized that the flapping object was a piece of duct tape holding the top hinges of the wing flap as it delicately tried to stay attached to the wing! Waitaminit! Don't planes Need Wing Flaps to Land Safely? Ohmigodohmigodohmigod pleasepleasepleasepleaseWHAT?!! You said as Christina nudged you awake. Ha ha ha. Gotcha.

Great. The flight from Narita to Chicago is boarding. You obediently follow the line of sheep with oversized handcarry luggage to the bay and board the aircraft. Ha ha! On this flight your mother-bought ticket got bumped to First Class. Ha ha.

"Miss? Oh, Miss?" A voice calls out. It's a lady sitting diagonally in front of you. Her hair looks like a pancake. She holds her finger up for the flight attendant, who is busy herding other sheep into the cabin.
"Miss? Miss?" Pancake Head calls.
Miss ignores her and dutifully herds sheep.
Pancake turns to her seatmate and says, "You know, I never liked flight attendants. They never listen to you," she says.
Seatmate says, "I never liked airline food. I hate traveling because I always have to eat it."
"Oh, yes," says PH, "my daughter-in-law cooks well. I miss her cooking."
"I have a son-in-law named Munchen-imagine that! He's a lawyer. Always busy. No grandkids."
"My eldest granddaughter is in college. She used to climb trees and trample my petunias."
"There was this apple tree grew in our yard, Harold and mine. We named it Dovey."
"Imagine the President sleeping with not one but two women! No wonder he looks so puffy. He's sick."
"Oh I know, I really liked Winston Churchill in the big war. Now that was a President."
"He wasn't a President."
"Whatever. He was wonderful."
"Well, we have to order some beverage soon."
"I'm going to call that stewardess again."
"Miss? Oh, Miss?" two voices chorused.
You, oh, you're just sitting quietly, wishing for elbows the size of Texas to hurl two bodies across the Pacific Ocean. Or at least a roll of duct tape.

FIN.