Before 24 Billion and Counting

Chapter 23 Part 1 Homeward bound - to what.

The seat belt sign pinged, as the aircraft gradually resumed a horizontal attitude. The cabin staff were soon busy getting drinks out and fussing with the meals in the kitchen. 

The stewardess who had strapped me in, Joan by her name tag, came with the drinks trolley and offered me a drink. 

"I'd like to visit the lavatory first." 

The dark hair swung as she spoke into a lapel microphone "Alamena, we need to accompany our special guest to the facilities." 

Alamena, who was a Polynesian lass built like an Amazon goddess, arrived and I was released, but accompanied to the door of the lavatory, and as I closed the door I saw Alamena standing, hands crossed in front of the door.  

I thought 'Well I suppose I have paid for it. Premier Class security'. 

As I attended to my ablutions I wondered who or what the cabin staff and indeed my fellow passengers thought I was. Alamena could have felled me with a single blow driven by her swimmer's powerful shoulders. I was no threat. 

Then I saw myself in the mirror for the first time for some days. Dark rings around my eyes, the skin of my face browned by the high UV component of mountain sunlight during Ellen and my failed expedition, and lined by worry and grief. My hair unkempt and wild, and my face stubbled but not fashionably, just neglected. I still wore a hikers outfit of multi pocketed blouse and shorts, and long dirty socks. My knees were brown and covered with grazes and healing cuts, the trainers were scuffed and soiled. Maybe 'excitable potential terrorist' might have been a valid interpretation of such an image. I'd best not protest at the security. Unrest amongst the cabin staff and passengers could spread like a contagious virus. 

I unlatched the door and Alamena gestured for me to precede her back to my seat. 

I said, "Thank you". She smiled uncertainly. 

I toyed with the evening meal, but sank the half bottle of red wine offered with the coq au vin, and when a brandy was offered after the sweet and cheese I declined, asking for a malt whisky.  

Joan reappeared as I tried to settle down for the night. She cut the cable tie, which then allowed me to reconfigure the seat to a lie own position.  

"You might have a better night with this," she said unfurling her olive skinned hand to expose a small white tablet. 

"So what is it?" 

"Sleeping tablet." 

"Oh, Ok then." 

She passed me a small glass of water and the tablet. Anything to submerge another few hours of nightmares into blackness, I thought. 

I lay there. Joan covered me with a blanket. In fifteen minutes relaxation suffused every muscle and fibre of my body. I felt a psychedelic release in the roar of the engines and the steam and carbon dioxide in a vapour trail a kilometre wide and hundreds long that would evolve and combine with others into weather systems that would screw somebody's expectation of a fine day for a harvest, or a few days freedom from a hurricane.  

And then my consciousness turned off. Cut as if by a switch. 

I woke to the bustle and muted clatter of the waking cabin as breakfast loomed. If Joan hadn't been shaking me I doubtless would have slept on until the cleaning crew arrived to turn the aircraft round. 

I roused myself and raised my seat. The belt had not been retied.  

"What was that knock out pill you gave me?"  

"Codeine phosphate. 100 milligram." 

'God' I thought 'a chemical restraint instead of a physical one.'