The Beachlorette

CH 3: Team Life Boat

We hit the water with a lurch that threw me forward, smashing my head into the seat rest in front of me. I saw stars for a moment and looked out the window. Daylight! Sky! My brain was working slowly from the hit, but it managed to gather one vital piece of information: We were still alive.

All around me girls were jumping up from their seats, screaming, crying, and hugging each-other. Brittany and Tiffany were already opening the overhead compartments, and again I suspected in unison;, "Oh my god, my Prada bag, it's still alright!". Again, I had no time to investigate.

 Because though we were no longer plunging to our deaths, we were now faced with an entirely different problem. The ground was wet.

We were sinking.

"Alright, Girls, listen up, we all need to--" my tiny voice was drowned out by the shrill cries of high-heeled woman all around me opening compartments, grabbing their purses and other luggage. Perhaps I should back up for a minute and explain something about myself. Though I'm twenty-five, a college-grad, and dated my fair share of men, I'm rather small. No, not just short. Small like I still resemble a high school freshmen, and still have to shop in the juniors department. With my dark hair, olive-skin, fine features, and large dark eyes, I've been compared to an evil elf or an avenging fairy. So when I stood up to try and organize a stampede of tall, blonde, panicking women, I was basically a hyena barking at a pack of giraffes.

"Excuse me ladies," a smoky, deep voice cut through the noise like butter, "but we need to escape this airplane before it sinks." I swear to you a ray of sunshine came through the window and lit up the man speaking. He was tall, muscular, with dark wavy hair, and teeth so perfect and white, if he were in a commercial, there would be a little tinkling star on the side when he smiled. He wore a white button down shirt, that was already fairly buttoned down, and perfectly offset his caramel skin. Suffice to say that the compartment silenced faster than a dog devours bacon.

"We need to open the side doors, and the two boxes over there have rafts in them." 

He pointed at the two boxes, that as it so happened, I was already holding one of, preparing to desert the entire airplane. (Okay, stop with that look, my oh-so-judgmental reader, I was going to leave them one raft to share, and they have more then enough silicone and plastic to keep their bodies afloat. A tiny person like me would sink like a rock.)

Twenty pairs of sharp eyes turned on me, and I help the raft up, trying to make very slow movements.

"Alright girls, lets do this!" This came from Gazelle, whose giant, light-bulb eyes were surprisingly narrow as I handed the raft over. "I wanna to see Smiles and us all working together. Lets get a cheer or Team Life Boat!" 

Seriously. 

Still sure I shouldn't have escaped when I had the chance?

A wave of work began, toned orange arms flailing and thrusting luggage out the now open doors, heels clicking, girls cheering as the made sure to save every last piece of luggage. I struggled against the tide of belly shirts and tiny shorts, trying to fight through the crowd but finding it impossible. Already the water was up to my ankles. Would I truly be outlived by a prada bag?

The answer came to me as I saw it placed lovingly on the wing of the airplane.

Yes. Yes I would.

"Girls, leave the luggage, we need to get out of this plane."

 I was a bit smug to see that the heavenly man who had first spoken, now seemed a bit stressed, because now that the girls executed a perfect cheer to pass along the luggage, he was completely drowned out. I noticed one of the other men, still flawless, though in a more hipster way. He had perfectly coiffed hair and had joined the assembly line, making sure his luggage also made it off the plane. I looked out the window at the pile of growing luggage on the wing. It had now sunken to the water level.

I wanted to scream and demand everyone get off the plane.

But as it happened, I didn't need to.

 Disaster struck first.

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