LOU'S TATTOOS

Chapter 16: THE TARMAC

"Alcohol! One big bottle or six little ones. Whatever you have."

Lou touched his sleeve. "I think she means, what kind of alcohol — scotch or vodka or what?"

Randall turned to look at Lou. "Doesn't matter. I don't drink. But I make exceptions in emergencies. Something's rattling! Hear it? The ground crew didn't screw something back on tight! Probably the gas cap!" He turned toward the trapped flight attendant. "Call the tower and have them check!"

"Yes, sir, I'll take care of it. I'll get you a drink. Try to relax." She turned away from his one-arm barrier and walked toward the forward galley.

Randall shouted after her, "I've got correct change! I've always got correct change!" He told Lou, "You can never be too careful. Always be prepared for anything."

Lou passed the fake fur jacket to him. "It's okay. Calm down. Here's a pillow."

"Thanks! I can practice crash position!" He put the jacket/pillow across his knees and buried his face in it.

"Right," said Lou. Then, returning to their earlier conversation, she said, "So, you're living with a woman."

A muffled "No" came from within the jacket/pillow.

A 5-year-old boy, with a toy airplane in one hand, raised himself onto his knees in seat 68B, directly in front of Randall. "Wimp," said the boy.

"Urchin," said the pillow.

Lou continued, "Oh, c'mon, be honest. You're living with somebody."

"Only Helga."

Lou nodded triumphantly. "Ah. Right. Hellllllll-ga."

"Right," said the pillow.

"Right," said Lou.

"Chicken," said the boy.

"Demon Seed," said the pillow.

The flight attendants passed down the aisle, checking seat belts, and the boy disappeared into his seat. Randall sat upright, but kept the pillow on his knees. A flight attendant handed Randall a miniature liquor bottle. He tossed it down in one gulp and handed the empty vial back to her. She continued on her way.

When the passengers were all securely and properly seated, the engines roared, and the airplane began to taxi.

Randall stiffened.

Lou thought it best to keep him distracted, if possible. "Big, dumb, and white-blonde, right? Helga?"

"Well, yeah."

"With great big ..."

"Ears," he finished for her.

Randall's flight attendant disposed of the empty liquor bottle and strapped herself into the jump seat next to another flight attendant, for takeoff. "The guy in sixty-nine B is a real psycho. It's gonna be a long trip."

The other attendant leaned far enough to get a look at the guy in 69B. She gasped. "I know him!" she told her colleague. "I had him on a trans-Atlantic flight to Africa three months ago. If you think he's bad now, you should see him over water! He got the life vest out from under the seat and wore it the whole trip. He wanted us to inflate the rubber lifeboats in the center aisle and pour soapy water over them to check for leaks. I slipped him a mickey."

"You didn't!"

"It was him or me."

~o~~o~~o~

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Next Wednesday, can Lou survive a cross-country flight with a crazy man by her side? Would she believe her hero, Galen the Great, would act like Randall is doing? We shall see.

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