Finally... finally... we got the nod. From the Southwest guy.
That our plane was comin'.
But... there was a catch... six people had to make a connecting flight.
In Baltimore.
That's right. It wasn't a direct flight. We were landing in Baltimore and taking off again.
Something I didn't really digest fully. Before this. Because I don't enjoy flying. All that much.
And an extra landing and take-off stresses me out. Just a bit.
So, then... the guy announced that they were going to hold the other flight in Baltimore. For the six.
But... we'd have to all board in record time when the plane landed here. In Buffalo. By 9:30pm. To be exact.
There were only a few of us, tho. So it was doable.
The flight came in.
Everyone was already ramped up. Ready for "Go"!
Got the signal and we all rushed madly down the corridor. To board the plane.
Tommy and I behind the six people who really really wanted to make their connecting flight.
Everyone was hustling.
I grabbed two seats. Tommy by the window. Me in the middle.
And a very handsome FLY BOY sat down. Beside. Me(l). On the aisle.
Why he chose to sit beside US? When there were a bunch of other empty seats... I'll never know.
But he was a pilot. Going home. Or somewhere else. I guess.
We belted in. Shook hands. And introduced ourselves.
I told him my thing was this: We'd have to hold hands. Him and I. For the takeoff and landing. If he didn't mind. If he did... TOO BAD.
He was an employee of this airline and I'd report him for a bunch of made-up CRAP if he didn't.
Hold my hand.
Tightly.
He laughed and agreed.
Then I said, "Psyche!". I was good.
I thought.
I'd try it with just Tommy this time.
Oh. I was lying. To a degree.
I still had to do my lil undercover thingie. That I do.
I moved my foot over. So it was JUST... JUST... touching his shoe.
For security.
He had no idea.
But... it works. For Me(l). All the same.
Now then: We got the safety drill.
Tommy was talking loudly through it all:
"Mommy! Why is this map ripped?"
"Why is the pilot driving right beside us?"
"Mommy! I want some pop."
"Mommy! I want Daddy."
"Mommy! I may want to go home."
"Mommy! Let GO. You're hurting my hand."
"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Why is this map ripped?"
It was all I could do to hang on and breathe. And touch feet with a strange man.
But... I leaned towards Tommy and said, "Shhhh. Don't be scared. I'm NOT. This is gonna be FUN! Look. Look. Out the window. Let's look at the lights of Buffalo. Cool, eh?"
I was frontin'.
But... sometimes... you HAVE to.
The thing was this, tho: We took off and I wasn't as scared. As usual.
For some reason.
Maybe we've flown a lot lately. And I was finally, finally getting used to it.
Or maybe it was because I told myself, in my head: Listen, Mel. If you die. Here and now. You die. You've had a pretty good kick at this can. Of life. So... buck up. There's nothing you can do about it anyway... beyond your control. So don't be a stupid sucky little baby. Be a MAN. Darn it."
It worked.
Again.
Because one time... a long time ago... I said the very same thing. In my head. Not on a plane tho. And it comforted me. But... at that time I was so beaten down already. I didn't have anything left. Besides that.
But... that's not a story for here. Or now. Ever.
What I'm sayin' is this: Seemed to work. Again.
And we were on OUR WAY.
Now then... I had to begin amusing my youngest son. For the over three hour flight.
He didn't seem very tired so we started with my secret weapon.
Not that.
No time for fun with farting.
Here. Beside the handsome FLY BOY.
I pulled my Pickle Beaver and Pickle Turtle out. Instead.
To play.
Here they are:
Oh.
Pardon me.
Wrong pic. That was MY SHIRT.
Heh heh.
Here we go:
That's better.
Tommy and I proceeded to play: Pickle Guys Who Talk To Each Other. On a plane.
Kinda loudly.
We asked our seatmate if he wanted a turn. With the Pickle Turtle. 'Cause Tommy doesn't like to give up the Pickle Beaver. To anyone.
He said, "No thanks. But I appreciate y'all askin'".
And then proceeded to look like he was about to DIE.
While having serious second thoughts about his choice of seatmates.
Cheers, Mel.
To be continued. Up next: More fun and exciting flight games. Food. Drinks. And we LOSE our FLY BOY. In Baltimore. Even tho he was going to Orlando, too. I think.
Heh heh.
