There is a certain charm to flying in a low-budget airplane.
Don’t get me wrong, it can be hellish to be strapped in a tin rocket full of
recycled human breath. The cramped seats that is full of tourists, the poor or
just simple idiots, always talking, chewing, snoring or complaining. There is
no pretence however; everybody knows what they are in for the minute they
purchased the ticket.
I sit awaiting takeoff in the aisle seat, relived after
narrowly avoiding missing the departure.
The stewardesses, a far cry from the beautiful ones that we all secretly
hope to marry, start their routine safety demonstrations with no enthusiasm and
just a touch of sadness. I ignore them
and instead focus on the rows of indistinguishable faces that surround me. Inane and stupid, the flap their gums and let
out air without saying anything with any meaning. Did you see the rack on her?
Three euro’s for a coke?! Schadenfreude
might be frowned upon, but I genuinely feel better being surrounded by these
morons.
The aircraft rumbles its intentions to take off and soon we
are rolling down the runway. Almost instantly, we are propelled and flung into
the sky. Within seconds, the ever distant buildings, roads and landmarks are
but spots and we see only clouds. Soon, the light indicating you must wear your
(utterly pointless) seatbelts turns off and seemingly everybody rushes up to go
to the restroom. Either they all took an oath to keep their bladders full till
exactly this moment, or this particular toilet is the heaven of places to
urinate.
We soon encounter turbulence and the shoddily built,
oversized firework is rattled around with ease.
I hear a deep, controlled breathing and turn to my left to see an
unremarkable yet still very attractive woman of similar age. She is bellowing
out every breath and her eyes are clamped shut. She is terrified. I reach out and unobtrusively
as possible, lightly tap her shoulder.
She partly turns her head in a manner that seems to be of shame. “Are
you alright?” I ask as politely as possible. She simply nods her head ever so
slightly. I sense she only wants privacy, so I flash a caring smile and leave
her be.
Around fifteen minutes into the flight, what I had been
dreading starts to kick in and I am inundated with a sharp pain surging through
my skull before lingering right behind the eyes. I can feel my ear canals
succumb to the changing pressure and my body automatically starts to quiver and
shake. My teeth all individually feel a
shooting pain, although not in any specific order and in random intervals. My
jaw feels like it is being compressed or crushed. My nose is probably the only
thing on my head not paralyzed by pain.
A single, quiet yet devastatingly loud internally, popping
noise is heard in my right ear. Everything else that hurt is so insignificant
to what I feel now. I quickly grasp it
to check if it has started bleeding. It has. It flows with the same viscosity as
a nosebleed but not with the same intensity or amount. If this was the first time experiencing this,
I would pass out or at least shriek and scream.
This is not my first time dealing with this torment and there is no
quick fix or cure, you just have to ride it out till the end.
An intrusive hand enters my private hell and touches my
twitching arm. It’s embarrassing and impossible to explain to the stewards what
is happening and how utterly powerless they are to help. My pride yells at me
not to make eye contact with them, lest they see me crying and in my most vulnerable
moment. I cannot ignore them however, so
I barely crane my head upwards to see them. The intruder wasn't a steward but
the girl across the aisle. She is
staring straight ahead and beads of sweat start to collect above her brow. Her
hand was sprawled out into aisle palm up, like a waiter expecting a tip. I know
right away what she means and thread my hand into hers. Immediately she clamps
her fingers tight, turned slightly and gives me the faintest of smiles.
No words need to be spoken. We are just two lonely souls suspended
in the air, one overcome with fear and one overcome with agony. Two complete
strangers but no other stranger on the plane cares about us, they always look
out of circus curiosity and quickly dart their eyes when we notice. For the next half hour, there will only be us,
both there to sympathise and distract.
She could be my soul mate, not that I believe in that
nonsense, but what a perfect way to meet someone. The problem is, inevitably,
everything is downhill from here. We don’t even know each other’s names and
that is absolutely fine by me. When the
plane lands, we will go our own way and hopefully never see each other again.
The romance of the moment we shared will stay perfect forever.
It would take a great girl to even come close to having the
same profound effect that she has on me.
KRS
