"Ladies and Gentlemen, please return to your seats. The plane will begin its descent. We will land shortly."
I opened my bleary eyes to find myself in a cramped airline seat. Darn it. I'm still stuck in this death trap.
I stretched my arms forward, nearly hitting the seat in front of me. Ugh, there's no space to move or breathe. I was slowly being suffocated with the plastic wall of the plane on my right and a brunette seated on my left. At a bare minimum, the passengers needed to be staggered a little more.
The red seat belt sign lit up overhead. I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. We'll be landing soon, and I'll be able to go home. That is, if I survive the landing process.
Claude, we've been over this before. The planes have safety measures in place so that you don't die. Unless, of course, those measures fail...
Adrenaline spiked in my veins. I could feel the plane drop from the air, plummeting to the ground. The velocity sped faster and faster, until it made impact with the ground, crushing my fragile body under its weight. Beads of sweat dripped from my forehead. My eyelids squeezed shut. Stop it. Don't think about it!
I inhaled, holding my breath for five seconds, then slowly releasing the air for seven. My heart rate decelerated. There, all better. Everything is fine.
I didn't reopen my eyes until I was certain the anxiety attack was gone. I glanced around to make sure no one was staring at me. Across the aisle, I saw a woman fastening her seatbelt.
I looked down at my lap. I was pretty sure that I had fastened my seatbelt, in fact, I knew I fastened it. I hadn't dared to unbuckle it during the trip. Flying always made me nervous. You never knew when the plane was about to nose dive from the sky. It was one of the many things 'under my bed.'
Growing up, I had been one of those kids who feared many things, including the bottom of my bed. Everything I was afraid of was tossed there, caged so they could never harm me. Spiders, burning airplanes, monsters, needles, guns, lemons, old chairs, you name it. I tossed all of those things 'under my bed,' a world of my worst nightmares.
Moral of the story, I'm nervous flying. I never get up from my seat, and I try to remain unconscious for most of the flight.
Though I was certain it strapped me in place, it was better to be safe than sorry. I tugged on the sides of my seatbelt. Neither side budged. The buckle was firmly locked. I exhaled and tried to recline in the barely padded seat. Just a few minutes, and then you'll be off this piece of metal that's somehow floating in the sky.
The landing was always the worst. At least when you first get on the plane, you're too terrified to think about how awful the situation is. Once in flight, you can somewhat forget the fact that you're flying by sleeping. At least that's what I always did to pass the time. The only time this strategy fails is when the plane inserts itself into your dream, and you find yourself in a burning cabin, plummeting into the ocean below...
Relax, Claude. Everything is fine. You're not going to your grave today. Maybe some other day, but not today.
"We are now beginning the descent," the pilot announced.
The nose of the plane dipped down. Air dropped beneath me in batches as we descended.
I gripped the leather armrests on either side of me. The engine roared as it flew down, full steam ahead. My heart rate spiked, blood pounding in my head. With one hand firmly planted on the armrest, I grabbed my water bottle and began chugging it. As a child, my mom had always told me to do this. For one thing, the repetition of constant swallowing helped to calm my nerves. But she also said that this was important to ensure that my eardrums didn't burst.
Thanks, Mom. That definitely makes me feel better. If a plane crashes, I'll not only be dead, but I'll also have burst eardrums. I'm telling you, planes are just insurance liabilities.
Cool water poured down my throat. I closed my eyes and tried to go to my 'happy place,' also known as my bed at home. Ah, how wonderful will it be to go to sleep in my soft, warm bed. Even though the bottom of my bed terrified me, the bed itself was a haven. My blankets were like protective clouds that hovered around me. I pulled my blue suit jacket tighter, mimicking a blanket. Just that thought alone quelled my anxieties...until the wheels of the plane made contact with the ground. The cabin bounced in the air with a screech. Don't crash, don't crash, don't crash!
We didn't crash. The plane coasted down the runway. Slowly, the momentum ground to a halt.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have now landed in Richmond, Virginia. We hope you have enjoyed flying with us and will join us again soon."
Air filled my lungs. You made it. You're alive.
I let the realization settle for a moment. Tension fled my body. Okay, I think I'm ready to go now.
I glanced around the cabin. Already, a few people had stood from their seats.
And now for another reason why I hated landing: everyone always made a mad dash off the plane. Areas with extremely high population density were also 'under my bed.' It got so crowded that I could barely get through without being stampeded. If the plane didn't kill me, I was sure that the hoards of passengers would.
I glanced at the person to my left. As usual, I was cursed with the window seat, which meant that trying to exit the plane would be a pain in the neck. Who knew that ninety percent of the people I sat next to turned into sloths as soon as the plane landed!
I turned to the people sitting next to me. On the far left, there was a man in ripped jeans and a white t-shirt. Fortunately, he rose from his seat immediately and was one of the first people down the aisle. Now I just had to worry about the brunette who sat next to me. As soon as the plane landed, she had pulled out a mirror from her bag and was staring into it.
Oh, please! Couldn't you have done that before the plane landed? We were on a three-hour trip!
"Excuse me," I said. "Would you mind letting me past you?"
The woman glanced at me for a moment with round, icy blue eyes, reminiscent of marbles. I shrunk back under her stare. She had been giving me these weird looks throughout the flight, or at least, every time I stirred from my nap. She was giving me that same look now, that expression that seemed to say, 'I've seen you before.' The funny thing was that she seemed awfully familiar as well. Something about her oval face, her slender nose, the shape of her eyes—it just seemed like déjà vu.
She cleared her throat. "Certainly," she said in a high-pitched voice.
"Thank you," I said. She stood from her seat, and I slipped past her. I grabbed my carry-on, a simple, black duffle bag from the overhead and waited patiently to exit the plane.
It was—quite literally—a breath of fresh air when I could finally step into the airport. I didn't stop to relish in the moment, however. I headed straight for the baggage claim. It was time for phase three of the reasons I hated flying: trying to find your suitcase in the baggage claim and hoping no one steals it.
"Flight 207 to Richmond, Virginia, pick up your luggage in baggage claim five."
That was me. I searched along the ceiling of the airport for the baggage station I needed to go to. I spotted the glowing sign farther down the hall of the airport. Couldn't they have made the baggage claim be closer to the terminal?
Apparently, they couldn't. I groaned, but I headed towards the baggage claim.
Why do I have to have a job that requires me to travel with suits? I was a programmer, and I had just been on business in New York. Unfortunately, a business trip means bringing suits with me. And in order to make sure that my suits weren't crumpled, I needed a proper suitcase, a suitcase that did not fit the size requirements for being a carry-on. Thus, it forced me to check my bag.
I glanced down at my watch. It was a quarter past eleven at night. I yawned. It was far too late at night to be traipsing across the whole airport to pick up luggage.
By the time I reached the luggage carousel, I felt like I had walked across the entire Earth three times. My eyelids drooped, but I jolted them open. Stay awake! You're almost home. I walked up to the baggage claim and forced myself to search for my bag.
My eyes fell on the black suitcase spiraling towards me on the conveyor belt. That's not something that happens a lot. My bags normally seem like they're the last ones off the plane, like me. Perhaps other people's suitcases are just as pushy as their owners.
I grabbed my bag and headed towards the nearest exit. I could practically feel myself being enveloped in the security of my bed.
I mustn't have been paying attention to where I was going, for one minute I was walking, the next I was tumbling to the ground. I landed on my behind with a thump. Ouch! I hope I didn't just break my back.
"Oh, I'm sorry, old chap." I looked up to see a gentleman with a gray moustache standing over me. He smiled, deepening the wrinkles on the sides of his face. He tipped his black dress hat, which matched the trench coat wrapped around him.
"It's alright," I said as I scrambled to my feet. The scent of clove mixed with pepper filled my nostrils. Ugh! Why do people wear such ghastly cologne?
The man reached down and handed me my duffle bag, which I had dropped falling down. The rough weave of the handle pressed into my hand, a familiar feeling. But I also felt something kind of papery...
"Here you are," he said cheerily.
"Thank you." He tipped his hat again before walking off. I glanced down at my palm. My fingers clutched a small sheet of parchment. I walked out of the path of bustling travelers and airline workers to a stand by a soda machine. I set my bag down so I could read the note.
Your safety is of utmost importance to us. Call us toll free if you ever need any assistance. We'll get you out of any jam you need. Memorize and destroy this number. 125-266-8906
I blinked at the paper, not knowing what to do with it. Is this some kind of prank? Do I know this person? Why do I need to memorize and destroy the number? Moisture secreted from my fingers, leaving a watermark on the parchment. My head clouded with fatigue.
I can't process this right now. I need to figure this out later. I shoved the note into the pocket of my suit pants, grabbed my bags, and exited the airport.
A cab rested right outside the airport. Ah, how nice, I don't even have to call a taxi.
I strode over to it. As I drew closer, I noticed that the cab already had a passenger in the back, a burly man in a dark suit and sunglasses. I froze.
Oh gosh. Isn't this how every horror movie starts? I can't get in there.
I swept my gaze up and down the street. The few cabs on the street were driving away or loading passengers.
Enough of this, Claude. You're being ridiculous! That kind of stuff only happens in the movies. It's getting late and you need to get home.
My mind told me to step forward, but my legs didn't budge.
Be reasonable! Stop being paranoid!
An African-American man hopped out of the front seat. "Do you need a ride?"
I tried to form words, but my tongue was paralyzed. It's a man in a black suit and black sunglasses. There is nothing suspicious about that. It's like saying a woman in a black dress is a Justice on the Supreme Court. The two are not synonymous.
I met the cab driver's gaze. He cocked his head at me.
"Yeah," I finally said. "Can I get a ride to this address?" I fumbled through my pockets for a little slip of paper on it that had my address on it.
"You can tell me your address in the car. I'll grab your bags," he said.
"Thank you." The cabby grabbed my bags while I slid into the right-hand seat of the car. In my peripheral, I sized up the man sitting next to me. He was extremely muscular, taking up nearly two seats of space. He was tall, too. His blond hair grazed the top of the ceiling, even though he sat slightly hunched forward.
"Ready to go?" the cab driver asked as he returned to the driver's seat.
"Yes. Now, let me get you that address..."
I felt something hard strike the back of my neck. Everything went black.