Controlled Scribbling

Flight 386

Lightning flashed across the sky in sync with the sound of rumbling thunder. The rain danced on the large windows of United's terminal F-12. I stared into the gray sky I would soon be in and wondered if I was pushing my luck. I spend a lot of time in the sky - I always seem to need to be somewhere I'm not. I was going to give a lecture about fractals at UCLA. Leaving Chicago's cold rainy spring for L.A.'s sun was good, but the lecture was not something I was looking forward to; in fact, I was dreading it. I didn't have any experience or very much confidence.

The Art and Technology department at UCLA has two guest speakers per semester. They wanted Ted Barker, my boss (self-made millionaire, computer genius, professional public speaker) but they were getting me, Calvin Kap (a hand-to-mouth drunk that's lucky to have a job). When they asked Ted to come and speak, he sold them on the idea that they really wanted me and if that wasn't enough, he ended up getting two thousand dollars more than they originally offered. I tried to talk my way out of it. When I told Ted I was going to bomb, he just laughed. He told me UCLA was paying in advance and he didn't care if all I did was shit on stage. "Have a few stiff drinks and babble about those fractal programs you've been working on, it will be over before you know it," he said. I imagined myself drunk as a lord, ranting about fractals in front of a room full of student mathematicians. What the Hell -- I've done stranger things.

A woman's tin voice announced the boarding of the plane. I gathered up all my things, one beat-up leather carry-on, a battered copy of Douglas Adams' "The Long Dark Tea-time Of The Soul," and an almost empty can of Coke. I headed towards the line that was forming. The plane filled slowly until it looked to be about ten people beyond its capacity. The pilot welcomed us, told us how fast and high we would be flying, our estimated time of arrival, and that it was in the upper seventies and sunny where we were going. The stewardi told us all about the safety stuff, even that our seats double as dandy flotation devices. I mentioned to one stewardess that we shouldn't be flying over any large bodies of water and she informed me we shouldn't be crashing either. After all the routine mumbo jumbo, I was finally able to order a Jack and Coke -- the only way to fly, as far as I'm concerned, is four sheets to the wind.

Three hours into the flight, I was coming out of the bathroom and a stewardess was standing just outside the door. She had a look of panic draped over her that sent a shiver down my body. She saw how contagious her panic was when she turned and saw me. We were in the back of the plane and everyone else was facing forward as happy as could be. She stared into my eyes, put her hand on my shoulder, and whispered, "The pilot is dead and we left Chicago with out a co-pilot." We stood there staring at each other for a couple of minutes while my mind searched for something to say. A part of my mind joked about not having to give that lecture while other parts just screamed lunatic thoughts. Finally in a low hush of a voice, "wow." I just learned I was going to die and all I could say about it was "wow." I felt dizzy with a rush of joy and pain. I felt like laughing and I felt like crying, but all I could do was stand there with my mouth open, silent. She looked at me with her green eyes wide and unblinking. It occurred to me that her eyes were the color of Ted's Jaguar. I was suddenly pissed off at Ted - these eyes should be looking at him, not me. "Ted should be dying, not me!" a voice shouted over and over in my head. My thoughts overlapped each other until nothing seemed to make any sense. She gently pushed me back towards the bathroom door and whispered, "Take me." At first I had no idea what she was talking about, but when it hit me it hit like a ton of bricks. My brain just about blew a fuse and almost blinked off altogether. I didn't think I would be able to perform knowing I was about to die any minute, and I couldn't help wondering what difference it would make one way or the other. "Before we crash, take me," she said as she gave me another gentle push towards the bathroom. My mind came full circle and was back to just thinking, "wow."

In the bathroom, we quickly disrobed ourselves and each other. In the crowded space, reality seemed to be flashing like a strobe light. My worries about not being able to perform were quickly shattered. We were heavy into it almost immediately; no time for foreplay - we were about to crash and die. Crash and die, crash and die, crash and die, the phrase echoed through my thoughts. I felt as if my physical self and my mental self had been torn from each other. I was crammed into an airplane's restroom with a beautiful stewardess writhing before me and I felt like my mind had gotten up and walked out on me. We went on for a long time (at least longer than I have ever gone on before). After it was all over, we put on our clothes while catching our breaths. She looked at me calmly and told me in a very matter-of-fact fashion that she was going to run and get her cigarettes and would be back in a heartbeat to do it again. "You know those things will kill you," I said with a chuckle while a crowd of voices in my head were singing, "crash and die, crash and die, we are going to crash and die." A grin and a peck on the cheek and she was gone. Once again the rocket scientist in my head sighed, "wow."

About ten minutes passed. I spent most of this time staring at the mirror. I was trying to get ready to die and not having much luck at it. I decided to grab another Jack and Coke, one for the road kind of thing. The stewardess I ordered it from said she couldn't serve me unless I was in my seat. She was very calm and I wanted to tell her we were all going to die but thought better of it. I doubted impending disaster was an aphrodisiac for most people. I also thought the chance of getting served after a comment like "we are going to crash and die" (seated or not) was a slim chance at best. I slammed my drink and looked around for my little sky nymph.

I was about to get up when the seat belt lights came on and a voice clicked into the air. "Hello this is your captain, we are now approaching Los Angeles, bla, bla, bla." So the captain lives. My poor brain was running around in circles not knowing what to think.

We landed (no crash, no carnage). "Thank you. Hope you enjoyed your flight." Two stewardi stood by the door of the plane as the passengers exited. Neither was the stewardess I had spent time with in the back of the plane. The people in front of me shuffled down the aisle and out into L.A. (where it was pouring down rain - oh well). When it was my turn to receive a plastic smile and a "Thank you. Hope you enjoyed your flight," I asked the stewardi where the other stewardess was. They looked at each other with a suspicious glance and then back to me. Both started to answer me and began to stumble over each other's words. The taller of the two stopped talking and looked back to her co-worker who told me there were only the two of them working on this flight. I looked past them into the cockpit and saw two men in United Airlines uniforms moving about and all in all being quite alive. The shorter of the two stewardi asked if there was something wrong. The tone of her voice was clearly asking me to get off her plane and out of her face - so I did.