real shady fiction story for a class.
I'm putting this here so i don't lose it, because lord knows i will if i don't. If you want to read it go for it and tell me what you think!
Propelled
There is an awkward noise coming from the airplane bathroom. It’s a wheezing that sounds like my mother when she falls asleep on the couch after a few to many eggnogs at Christmas. I slowly push my ear up to the door to try to figure out what was going on when Nina taps me on the shoulder.
“Barry! Are people having sex in there again? We just turned off the seatbelt sign for Christ sake.” Nina doesn’t wait for an answer, she starts banging on the door, and making snide remarks at the supposed mile high clubbers. Ranting and raving that it is such disrespect to the other passengers, and to us the crew. She doesn’t mean a word of it. She just likes to get a rise out of people, and see their reddened faces when they have to do the walk of shame back to their seats. That’s how Nina is, impulsive, rude, and entirely endearing. She’s got the type of charisma that could charm the pants off of Ebenezer Scrooge.
The noise stops. Nina and I look nervously at each other while jockeying for position in front of the door. We push each other forward, so that the inhabitants have a face to put with their embarrassment and anger. The door opens, and there’s the pilot. His eyes are bloodshot, and he’s obviously upset about something. It was not what we expected.
“What’s going on man?” I ask without wanting to know the answer and slightly awestruck to see the pilot out of the cockpit in the middle of a flight.
The pilot is giving a technical explanation of what was going on in the plane. I stop listening and am concentrating on how his voice sounds exactly like it does when coming through the shady speakers in the cabin. I don’t understand the words. What I do understand is that whatever is happening will result in a risky water landing. Nina is standing next to me shaking slightly but still wearing her patented expression of a fake smile and wide eyes. It’s the same mixed expression that she used when she first started working, a mix of apprehension and the painfully strong desire to succeed. The pilot walks away to begin preparing the plane, when I snap out of my daze. Nina starts firing orders like a drill sergeant, and I obey. She’s probably the only reason I still have a job here.
After complying with my orders, I sneak off to find Hal, the only other flight attendant on the plane. He’s a nervous wreck most of the time. Hal is the type of guy that screams when he sees a spider, and hyperventilates when anyone even whispers the word danger. He’s so nervous that Nina and I played rock, paper, scissors, to determine who had to brief him on what’s going on. I lost. He is in the bar area getting the drink tray ready to make his rounds.
“Might want to load up on the vodka and gin man.” I say, hoping to make an easy transition into what I’m about to tell him.
“You know I don’t like to get the passengers to drunk. Soccer moms and Grandmas hitting on me isn’t really my scene. It’s awkward. And I always worry their husbands are somehow going to find out” He is about to walk out of the kitchenette, when I say a little to loudly that something is wrong with the plane.
I look out into the cabin and you can see the whispers and trepidation start circulating. Row by row, aisle by aisle, people begin to get restless. The pilot comes on and explains what has to be done, and Hal looks at me with wonder in his eyes. He is like a small child most of the time, can’t ever hide his true feelings from his face.
I met Hal in flight attendant training. We instantly bonded over our desire to be anywhere else but at the school. Hal wanted to work in the flight business because his Dad had been a fighter pilot. The closest he could get was being a flight attendant on a low rate airline. His eyesight isn’t all that great, and he has to wear thick glasses most of the time. He’s a great guy once you learn how to deal with all of his weird nuances.
I guess I was there for a similar reason, wanting to fulfill some sort of family tradition deep down. I come from a long line of flight attendants; my mother and sisters have been in the profession for years. When I got out of college with a semi-useless liberal arts degree, I decided that I would become an attendant just for a short while. I would work until I made enough money to have a comfortable savings. That was five years ago. The lifestyle becomes addicting. I’ve never been bored or too tied down to any one place. Sure when I go home for Christmas, or whatever holiday the company decides to give me off, I still have to live at my mom’s. It’s kind of nice though, a lot better than coming home to an empty apartment with month old milk in the fridge. There are major benefits to living the life of a flight attendant, although given my current situation I can’t think of many. Seeing the world is nice, and well, seeing the world is nice.
I notice that Hal has disappeared, and left the drink cart abandoned. I figure there’s nothing else to do at this moment but wait, so I mix myself a stiff concoction. I don’t pay attention to any of the labels as I pour. The drink is strong and burns my throat as it goes down. I mix one for Nina and Hal, thinking that they will probably need a little courage juice. Dutifully I push the drink cart into the cabin and start mixing cocktails for anyone who wants one. Most people do, I figure it’s an easy way to keep our minds off of the impending situation. I mix drinks for anyone who’s willing to take them, and try to dodge the accusatorily looks when a group older women see me handing a rum and coke to a fifteen-year-old. He’s probably been drunk before, so it can’t be all that bad. I notice all the passengers calling relatives and telling them what’s going on. I wish I had someone to call, my mothers on another flight, and my sisters and I haven’t talked in a couple of years. Our schedules conflict and we just started to lose touch. It seems too imposing to call them at a moment like this. I realize I have no one to call.
I continue to push the cart around, mixing drinks while downing them. The sudden realization that I am more or less alone makes me want to drink more. After my first round, I go off to find Nina. I’m slightly buzzed and feel that now is as good of a time as any to tell her how I feel. For the past month I’ve worked almost every flight with her. With this lifestyle there aren’t many things you can get attached too. You’re constantly moving from place to place, leaving homes and “friends” in the wake. Nina however I’m attached too. She’s fantastic, witty, and terribly obnoxiously compassionate. She gives money to every homeless person, charity, and Girl Scout that comes her way. It’s a trait that I could never see in myself. She’s a better person than I am.
I realize that I want a family. I don’t want to live the same life as my father, hardly knowing his son except for the occasional Christmas or Thanksgiving visit, when he happened to be in the area. My mother didn’t like him much to begin with; he was a one-night-stand turned into a forced polite relationship for my sake. If I were in his shoes I probably wouldn’t visit much either. Lately I have realized that I am partially in his shoes, flying all the time never sticking in a place long enough to call it home, its like wearing one wing tip and one Vans sneaker. I don’t want to be like him though, dieing while still a pilot, never settling down. I’m twenty-eight years old; I should be thinking about buying a house, starting a family. Not which hot spot I’m going to hit in the airport town we land in. Or which girl I’m going to sleep with next. As a tip the “I’m only in town for a night” pickup line works especially well with women who have obviously just broken up with their boyfriends. The trick is to look for the girl that is surrounded by her friends, and looks the most out of place. That’s the best girl to have a one-night stand with; she won’t get committed, and will actually be happy when you don’t call. It’s a win-win situation. Well its win-win until I wake up the next morning and realize that I’m sleeping next to another leggy bottle blond with too much mascara on and not Nina.
I want the typical American dream with a wife that will cook dinner and call me on my bullshit, with wily kids to scamper around and cause a ruckus. It would be nice to come home to my own family, instead of a hotel concierge’s fake courtesy. Whenever I have this increasingly frequent fantasy, Nina’s always there. She’s the one I see scooping a kid off the floor after he wiped out because he was running in socks. Or she’s the one yelling at me for watching football for an entire day, instead of mowing the lawn, or cleaning out the garage. She’s the only one I can see myself settling down with. I need to tell her.
Eventually I stumble into the break cabin, drunker than when I started my life revaluation and there’s Nina. She’s slumped down and looks exhausted. It takes every bit of reserve I have left after my many makeshift cocktails, to not grab her, kiss her and hold her until this is all over. Instead I just sit across from her and slide a drink in her direction.
“I thought you might need this.” I say while trying to make my most debonair and charming face.
“Why are you making the ridiculous face that you usually make behind Hal’s back when he’s being an idiot?” Nina looks at me, then at the drink, and decides the drink is easier to look at with a straight face.
This is the exact reason why I don’t make this face while sober. I regain my composure, and I try to gather my thoughts.
“Nina I’ve been meaning to tell you something for awhile, and I feel like now is the best time to do it.” I take a large glug and shudder from the gasoline type taste and nervousness as I look up into her eyes.
Nina has a peculiar look like she already knows what I’m about to say. She’s leaning so far across the table that our faces are almost touching. I can smell her perfume mixed with her hairspray, a soft flowery and chemical smell. She can’t wait for the words to spill out of my mouth. Just as I open my mouth to speak, she cuts me off.
“You don’t have to say it; I know it must be hard. Barry I know you’re gay.” She was up out of her seat before I could even react. She threw her arms around me, spouting off something about how honored she was to be the one that I came out to. She went on and on talking about all the instances where she almost brought it up but didn’t, and the reasons why she knew. I don’t know how to react. Does she want me to be gay? Is that why she’s saying this? Should I even try to fix it? I decide on smiling sheepishly, shrugging then getting up to go find Hal, he’s going to flip out.
After a full plane search, I find him curled up under the counter in the kitchenette. I check to see if he’s breathing, he is, and notice that he reeks of cheap gin. Our smells mix together resembling the smell of a Molotov cocktail right after it explodes. To take his mind off the situation, and break up the unmanly tension of being so close to him, I recant what just happened in the break room. Halfway through the story Hal’s out of the cupboard and mixing another drink, he joins me on the floor. We try to think of what clues could have lead Nina to this conclusion. By the end of it we’re rolling around giggling, and realize that it may be an easier conclusion to make than we thought.
The fasten seatbelt sign dings back on, and the pilot makes the announcement that we are making what could be our final descent. Hal and I are too drunk to walk across the cabin, so we secure ourselves to the floor. Nina, not wanting to be alone, comes and joins us.
The turbulence begins to get harsh, and you can feel the collective breath in the plane.
“Nina,” I look over at her, and she’s staring back at me with explosions in her eyes.
“I love you.” I tell her because it may be the last chance I get, and kiss her to prove my point.
Propelled
There is an awkward noise coming from the airplane bathroom. It’s a wheezing that sounds like my mother when she falls asleep on the couch after a few to many eggnogs at Christmas. I slowly push my ear up to the door to try to figure out what was going on when Nina taps me on the shoulder.
“Barry! Are people having sex in there again? We just turned off the seatbelt sign for Christ sake.” Nina doesn’t wait for an answer, she starts banging on the door, and making snide remarks at the supposed mile high clubbers. Ranting and raving that it is such disrespect to the other passengers, and to us the crew. She doesn’t mean a word of it. She just likes to get a rise out of people, and see their reddened faces when they have to do the walk of shame back to their seats. That’s how Nina is, impulsive, rude, and entirely endearing. She’s got the type of charisma that could charm the pants off of Ebenezer Scrooge.
The noise stops. Nina and I look nervously at each other while jockeying for position in front of the door. We push each other forward, so that the inhabitants have a face to put with their embarrassment and anger. The door opens, and there’s the pilot. His eyes are bloodshot, and he’s obviously upset about something. It was not what we expected.
“What’s going on man?” I ask without wanting to know the answer and slightly awestruck to see the pilot out of the cockpit in the middle of a flight.
The pilot is giving a technical explanation of what was going on in the plane. I stop listening and am concentrating on how his voice sounds exactly like it does when coming through the shady speakers in the cabin. I don’t understand the words. What I do understand is that whatever is happening will result in a risky water landing. Nina is standing next to me shaking slightly but still wearing her patented expression of a fake smile and wide eyes. It’s the same mixed expression that she used when she first started working, a mix of apprehension and the painfully strong desire to succeed. The pilot walks away to begin preparing the plane, when I snap out of my daze. Nina starts firing orders like a drill sergeant, and I obey. She’s probably the only reason I still have a job here.
After complying with my orders, I sneak off to find Hal, the only other flight attendant on the plane. He’s a nervous wreck most of the time. Hal is the type of guy that screams when he sees a spider, and hyperventilates when anyone even whispers the word danger. He’s so nervous that Nina and I played rock, paper, scissors, to determine who had to brief him on what’s going on. I lost. He is in the bar area getting the drink tray ready to make his rounds.
“Might want to load up on the vodka and gin man.” I say, hoping to make an easy transition into what I’m about to tell him.
“You know I don’t like to get the passengers to drunk. Soccer moms and Grandmas hitting on me isn’t really my scene. It’s awkward. And I always worry their husbands are somehow going to find out” He is about to walk out of the kitchenette, when I say a little to loudly that something is wrong with the plane.
I look out into the cabin and you can see the whispers and trepidation start circulating. Row by row, aisle by aisle, people begin to get restless. The pilot comes on and explains what has to be done, and Hal looks at me with wonder in his eyes. He is like a small child most of the time, can’t ever hide his true feelings from his face.
I met Hal in flight attendant training. We instantly bonded over our desire to be anywhere else but at the school. Hal wanted to work in the flight business because his Dad had been a fighter pilot. The closest he could get was being a flight attendant on a low rate airline. His eyesight isn’t all that great, and he has to wear thick glasses most of the time. He’s a great guy once you learn how to deal with all of his weird nuances.
I guess I was there for a similar reason, wanting to fulfill some sort of family tradition deep down. I come from a long line of flight attendants; my mother and sisters have been in the profession for years. When I got out of college with a semi-useless liberal arts degree, I decided that I would become an attendant just for a short while. I would work until I made enough money to have a comfortable savings. That was five years ago. The lifestyle becomes addicting. I’ve never been bored or too tied down to any one place. Sure when I go home for Christmas, or whatever holiday the company decides to give me off, I still have to live at my mom’s. It’s kind of nice though, a lot better than coming home to an empty apartment with month old milk in the fridge. There are major benefits to living the life of a flight attendant, although given my current situation I can’t think of many. Seeing the world is nice, and well, seeing the world is nice.
I notice that Hal has disappeared, and left the drink cart abandoned. I figure there’s nothing else to do at this moment but wait, so I mix myself a stiff concoction. I don’t pay attention to any of the labels as I pour. The drink is strong and burns my throat as it goes down. I mix one for Nina and Hal, thinking that they will probably need a little courage juice. Dutifully I push the drink cart into the cabin and start mixing cocktails for anyone who wants one. Most people do, I figure it’s an easy way to keep our minds off of the impending situation. I mix drinks for anyone who’s willing to take them, and try to dodge the accusatorily looks when a group older women see me handing a rum and coke to a fifteen-year-old. He’s probably been drunk before, so it can’t be all that bad. I notice all the passengers calling relatives and telling them what’s going on. I wish I had someone to call, my mothers on another flight, and my sisters and I haven’t talked in a couple of years. Our schedules conflict and we just started to lose touch. It seems too imposing to call them at a moment like this. I realize I have no one to call.
I continue to push the cart around, mixing drinks while downing them. The sudden realization that I am more or less alone makes me want to drink more. After my first round, I go off to find Nina. I’m slightly buzzed and feel that now is as good of a time as any to tell her how I feel. For the past month I’ve worked almost every flight with her. With this lifestyle there aren’t many things you can get attached too. You’re constantly moving from place to place, leaving homes and “friends” in the wake. Nina however I’m attached too. She’s fantastic, witty, and terribly obnoxiously compassionate. She gives money to every homeless person, charity, and Girl Scout that comes her way. It’s a trait that I could never see in myself. She’s a better person than I am.
I realize that I want a family. I don’t want to live the same life as my father, hardly knowing his son except for the occasional Christmas or Thanksgiving visit, when he happened to be in the area. My mother didn’t like him much to begin with; he was a one-night-stand turned into a forced polite relationship for my sake. If I were in his shoes I probably wouldn’t visit much either. Lately I have realized that I am partially in his shoes, flying all the time never sticking in a place long enough to call it home, its like wearing one wing tip and one Vans sneaker. I don’t want to be like him though, dieing while still a pilot, never settling down. I’m twenty-eight years old; I should be thinking about buying a house, starting a family. Not which hot spot I’m going to hit in the airport town we land in. Or which girl I’m going to sleep with next. As a tip the “I’m only in town for a night” pickup line works especially well with women who have obviously just broken up with their boyfriends. The trick is to look for the girl that is surrounded by her friends, and looks the most out of place. That’s the best girl to have a one-night stand with; she won’t get committed, and will actually be happy when you don’t call. It’s a win-win situation. Well its win-win until I wake up the next morning and realize that I’m sleeping next to another leggy bottle blond with too much mascara on and not Nina.
I want the typical American dream with a wife that will cook dinner and call me on my bullshit, with wily kids to scamper around and cause a ruckus. It would be nice to come home to my own family, instead of a hotel concierge’s fake courtesy. Whenever I have this increasingly frequent fantasy, Nina’s always there. She’s the one I see scooping a kid off the floor after he wiped out because he was running in socks. Or she’s the one yelling at me for watching football for an entire day, instead of mowing the lawn, or cleaning out the garage. She’s the only one I can see myself settling down with. I need to tell her.
Eventually I stumble into the break cabin, drunker than when I started my life revaluation and there’s Nina. She’s slumped down and looks exhausted. It takes every bit of reserve I have left after my many makeshift cocktails, to not grab her, kiss her and hold her until this is all over. Instead I just sit across from her and slide a drink in her direction.
“I thought you might need this.” I say while trying to make my most debonair and charming face.
“Why are you making the ridiculous face that you usually make behind Hal’s back when he’s being an idiot?” Nina looks at me, then at the drink, and decides the drink is easier to look at with a straight face.
This is the exact reason why I don’t make this face while sober. I regain my composure, and I try to gather my thoughts.
“Nina I’ve been meaning to tell you something for awhile, and I feel like now is the best time to do it.” I take a large glug and shudder from the gasoline type taste and nervousness as I look up into her eyes.
Nina has a peculiar look like she already knows what I’m about to say. She’s leaning so far across the table that our faces are almost touching. I can smell her perfume mixed with her hairspray, a soft flowery and chemical smell. She can’t wait for the words to spill out of my mouth. Just as I open my mouth to speak, she cuts me off.
“You don’t have to say it; I know it must be hard. Barry I know you’re gay.” She was up out of her seat before I could even react. She threw her arms around me, spouting off something about how honored she was to be the one that I came out to. She went on and on talking about all the instances where she almost brought it up but didn’t, and the reasons why she knew. I don’t know how to react. Does she want me to be gay? Is that why she’s saying this? Should I even try to fix it? I decide on smiling sheepishly, shrugging then getting up to go find Hal, he’s going to flip out.
After a full plane search, I find him curled up under the counter in the kitchenette. I check to see if he’s breathing, he is, and notice that he reeks of cheap gin. Our smells mix together resembling the smell of a Molotov cocktail right after it explodes. To take his mind off the situation, and break up the unmanly tension of being so close to him, I recant what just happened in the break room. Halfway through the story Hal’s out of the cupboard and mixing another drink, he joins me on the floor. We try to think of what clues could have lead Nina to this conclusion. By the end of it we’re rolling around giggling, and realize that it may be an easier conclusion to make than we thought.
The fasten seatbelt sign dings back on, and the pilot makes the announcement that we are making what could be our final descent. Hal and I are too drunk to walk across the cabin, so we secure ourselves to the floor. Nina, not wanting to be alone, comes and joins us.
The turbulence begins to get harsh, and you can feel the collective breath in the plane.
“Nina,” I look over at her, and she’s staring back at me with explosions in her eyes.
“I love you.” I tell her because it may be the last chance I get, and kiss her to prove my point.