The bus stops right next to the airplane’s stairs.
Oh my God, this iron bird is huge. It’s the first time I’m so close to an airplane, and the spectacle is overwhelming. My knees go weak. I barely manage to climb the stairs.
“Welcome aboard!”
Wow, my first stewardess! She’s so cute! Here’s an excellent opportunity to practice my English a bit.
“Hel-lo… I’m glad to be flying. Umm… I haven’t flown before. I confess it’s my first time. Basically, I’m a beg… beginner! Will you be gentle with me, ok?”
The stewardess smiles at me, but she doesn’t seem too eager to chat. Just smiles. I smile back stupidly. She smiles at me again.
Clearly: today is the day of smiles and grins. Smiles at the airport, smiles on the plane. Probably smiles even in the closet, if I ever get there.
I stand still and stare in awe at her uniform. It fits her perfectly. The woman briefly looks at the ticket and points me where to go. I continue to smile stupidly and thank her, then move forward through the rows with my mouth stretched ear to ear like a child walking through a store who has discovered a whole new section of toys.
Phew… it’s the first time I see an airplane from the inside! It seems quite solid. I’m sure it won’t crash. It’s built sturdy.
Wait a minute, Tiberiu! And the Titanic was built sturdy too… Eh! Nonsense!
I smile at my dark-skinned neighbor on the left, I smile at her little one, smiling at every passenger who enters the plane row by row. Everything is wonderful. If I had known how cool it is on a plane, I would have flown more often.
“Boy or girl?”
“Boy,” the neighbor replies.
Damn it, I hate boys!
Girls are cute. They look at you with their peaceful eyes, sleep, coo, in a word, mind their own business. Boys, however, are a different story. Boys scream, cry, have colic, vomit, and poop every half hour.
And then they need changing.
I haven’t had children, but you don’t need to have children to know this. Just spend an hour in a public park on a sunny day when moms stroll their darlings along the paths.
You don’t hear much from the pink strollers. But from the blue ones, you hear whimpering and screams that would freeze the blood in the veins of even the most experienced exorcist.
But… oh well! If I have to stay here, I’ll stay here. I lean towards my neighbor and whisper:
“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. I bet we’ll arrive safely in Thailand and this plane won’t crash.”
She looks at me over her shoulder, blinking rapidly. I extend my hand.
“My name is Tiberiu. Is it also your first time? I mean, it’s my first flight. But you? And you?”
She smiles a bit awkwardly.
“We’ll arrive safely,” she says with her fake smile. “Be calm!”
“Of course we will,” I reply, nodding like a wise old Chinese man stroking his long white beard. “We’ll arrive alive and the plane won’t crash. Don’t think about it.”
“But I wasn’t even thinking about it!” she says a bit annoyed. “What’s gotten into you? What’s with these ideas? Of course it won’t crash. She crosses herself and adds: God forbid!”
“God help us!” I confirm. “I mean help us, God, to keep us safe. Something like that.”
“Why are you so nervous?” she asks as she fusses over her little one’s diapers.
Just look! The plane hasn’t even taken off yet and she’s already messing with diapers. I knew boys are shitty.
“But I’m not nervous.”
“Yes, you are! Look at you shaking.”
I look carefully. My left knee seems to have a life of its own. It shakes up and down as if it were connected to a power source. I extend my right arm and look at my palm attentively. My fingers tremble. I feel like water is starting to flow over me. Am I nervous?
“Well, um… Nervous? Maybe a bit,” I whisper with a voice I don’t recognize.
I look at my neighbor who is calmly attending to her offspring. Now she’s powdering him.
“I’m nervous because the customs lady took my lighter,” I confess.
She starts laughing. Her teeth are very white.
“Well, of course. Smoking is not allowed on the plane.”
“That may be so. But people still drink something, right? Seventeen hours of travel are not exactly few.”
“Possible,” she says, eyes on her child and mouth at me. Then she stands up, abandons her child like an unfit mother, and leaves me talking alone. I look at her in amazement. Now she’s talking to the stewardess. She’s explaining something to her. Aha! The stewardess turns her head and looks attentively at me. Aha!
That snitch. I look amused at the baby next to me and communicate:
“I think your mommy doesn’t like me very much. Ah, women…”
The stewardess approaches smiling. In less than a minute, I’m relocated somewhere, at the back of the plane, and I’m the only one on three seats. Not bad. The only downside is that behind me is the toilet, and for seventeen hours, I’ll smell like crap and piss.
But let’s not be negative. There’s also a bright side: here, in the back, there’s peace and quiet. The only noise is made by the stewardess who started explaining to us how to use the life jacket and where exactly to exit after the plane crashes.
I’m calm.
I know well that I will survive. I know that for sure. I read on the internet a statistic that clearly showed: the seats at the back of the plane are the safest places in the world.
So I grin, calmly fasten my seatbelt, and recline my seat to the maximum. I’ll try to get some sleep until takeoff.
On the back of the seat in front of me, there’s a pocket. I notice a corner of a magazine sticking out. I pull it out. There are two magazines. In fact, there’s a magazine about flower care and a small brochure.
Flowers? Weeds? Crap!
I hate weeds! Weeds are crap. Not just the ones in the magazine. They’re crap in general. Yeah, I hate weeds!
Plus, this magazine is all written in German. German sucks! What a crappy magazine! I quickly flip through it. Flowers. More flowers. Yellow roses on the cover, white roses in the middle. And yellow roses… red…
Roses of all colors everywhere, on every page. Weeds with thorns and spikes. And explanations in German.
I’m really glad I wasn’t born in Germany. German sucks. It’s thorny. I toss the magazine aside onto the seat to my right.
The brochure, on the other hand, is acceptable. It’s okay. It’s written in a civilized language, in English. I can understand everything written. Some European cities are presented. Clocks, tourism, museums, churches, and universities. Monuments, parks, happy children, and people smiling.
Damn! Why are they smiling? I don’t like it. They’re definitely hiding something. What could they be hiding? They don’t fool me with their smiles.
I flip through the pages absentmindedly. I read here and there. The lines dance, and I feel my eyes closing.
Yes. More churches, more monuments, museums again. Small pictures. Large pictures. And very small text. Crap!
But who cares about Europe and its old cities and Europeans smiling while hiding a knife behind their backs? Me? Oh, no! I go to the beaches in Thailand. That’s where the future is!
Europe belongs to the past. It’s a crappy relic and… and full of knife-wielders and it’s cold. Snow. Brr!
But Thailand… oh, Thailand. Sunshine!
I yawn, and it’s getting harder and harder to read. The lines are swirling before my eyes.
I slowly slip into the world of dreams.
***
I wake up suddenly. I notice someone has put a pillow under my head.
The plane is still in place, and the engines are still off. Something’s not right. I signal to the flight attendant, and she approaches.
“Excuse me, but… why aren’t we leaving?”
“Oh, you woke up!” she says, smiling. “We’re leaving right away, sir. In three minutes.”
“St… strange,” I stammer. “Very strange. It seemed to me like I slept much longer, but I see we’re still here, on the ground.”
“Yes, you slept. Don’t deceive yourself. You slept quite a bit. You slept for about fourteen hours,” she says, showing all her teeth.
My jaw divorces from my mandible. I ask with wide eyes:
“I slept fourteen hours? Me?”
“Yes, sir. We were worried. We slapped you, but nothing. We even brought a doctor who examined you. Nothing. We didn’t know what else to do. The pilot seriously considered landing in New Delhi and leaving you at a hospital. In the end, the doctor convinced him not to.”
“And now we’re at…”
“In Shanghai, China. We stopped for refueling. We’re leaving in three minutes. I’m going right now to inform the doctor that you woke up.”
As she talks to me, her face moves thousands of light years away from me. China? What do you mean, China? I want Thailand, not China. I want it now!
I bury myself in my padded seat.
China? No one in my family has ever been to China. I fan myself with my hands and cool down.
The flight attendant leaves. A short, bald guy approaches me. He suddenly takes my hand and holds it like that.
“Go to hell!” I shout at him. “I’m not gay.”
“Neither am I,” he replies. “I was trying to take your pulse.”
Aha! So this is the doctor? Well, here we go! He couldn’t be bothered to put on a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck? In the end, someone’s going to get it from someone.
“Will I survive, doc?” I ask, smiling.
“I think so,” he replies with a serious face. “Did you take any sleeping pills?”
“A friend gave me some aspirin. And, the night before, I had some weird drink ‘Made in Austria’.”
“As far as I know,” he says thoughtfully, “aspirin doesn’t cause drowsiness. It might be from the drink.”
“It might be,” I agree, annoyed. “Damn Austrians! They poison people with their schnapps.”
The doctor shrugs and leaves, and I quickly unbuckle my belt because I feel like my bladder is about to burst. I go to the bathroom, quickly empty the excess water, and come back. I sit back in my seat and suddenly sniff the air. What’s that smell? Something’s not right!
“Hey, why does it smell like this?” I ask, displeased.
“You slept the whole time and fart like a horse, buddy! That’s why it stinks. Come on, buckle up, we’re leaving!”
The voice comes from one of the seats in front.
I look out the window. It’s dark outside. China is probably a dark country. Damn communists!
I buckle up again. Maybe I missed the first takeoff, but I’m going to see this one live.
The plane starts slowly. The runway moves fast, and then the speed increases more and more. The aircraft shoots into the sky with me. I feel my back sticking to the seat.
Wow! It’s my first takeoff! The other one doesn’t count.
I signal to the flight attendant.
“It’s my first takeoff,” I say happily. “Could I get a glass of cognac or vodka?”
“Of course.”
“It’s free, right?”
I read somewhere that drinks are free on the plane, but even so, I still feel the need to check.
“In first class, they’re free,” she informs me, “but you’re not in first class, so I’m afraid drinks aren’t free.”
“Well, that’s fine,” I say, waving my hand. “Bring me a whole bottle. Can I pay with a card?”
“No.”
Oops! Fuck! What crap!
I rummage through my pockets. Fortunately, I find a few banknotes. She comes back with a whole bottle, but it’s a very small bottle. And she pours it into a very large glass. It’s a weird effect!
“It doesn’t cost you anything,” she announces, smiling. “You said it’s your first flight. It’s from the crew. We’re very happy that everything is okay with you. If something had happened to you, we would have had to fill out a bunch of papers.”
“Thank you! And I’m glad I’m alive too. Well, I’ll take this one for free, but I’ll pay for the next ones.”
“There won’t be any ‘next ones,'” she tells me with a sweet face. “We have a very strict policy regarding alcohol consumption. But in less than two hours, we’ll be landing in Chiang Mai, and you’ll be able to do absolutely everything you want.”
She turns around and lets me admire her backside as she walks away. The backside looks good. My glass of drink looks bad. I down it. Is that all? This drop?
How am I going to get drunk with this?
What do you mean company policy? Hey, liars! Did you all agree to drive me crazy?! Magazines with weeds and vodka bottles the size of a thimble?
Seriously?!
I grit my teeth. It’s okay, I still have just two hours. I’ll endure. I won’t die of thirst. Yes, I’ll endure for two hours.
Outside the window, there’s only pitch darkness. Is that all? I haven’t experienced anything interesting on my first flight. But… what’s this? My ears pop slowly, and it feels like my brain is expanding. It’s as if I have hiccups in my head.
“Hey buddy, at what altitude are we flying?” I ask the guy in front of me. I have no idea what he looks like, but I can hear him perfectly, probably asthmatic.
“I think we’re at about eleven thousand meters.”
“Eleven? Thousand? What the… Are you kidding?”
The guy is silent for a few seconds, then calmly says, “You’re right, we can’t be. We’ve just taken off. We haven’t reached eleven thousand yet. Maybe eight thousand. Who knows?”
I sink even deeper into my seat. I tighten my seatbelt even more. My knees start bouncing in all directions.
Oh my God! And I thought sitting in the back of the plane would help me survive. Yeah, maybe half a second longer.
Eleven thousand meters? That’s huge! If we crash, my shit will fly up my nose.
I remain motionless, like a rabbit under a snake’s gaze. I don’t know how much time has passed. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. Maybe… No, definitely not years.
I travel through time and space. I can’t see. I can’t hear. Everything around me disappears into complete darkness and a faint background noise. Buzz… But I think… Buzz…
Damn it, Tiberiu! Do you want to die? What the hell are you doing here? Buzz…
The explanation is clear: I’ve been an idiot. If I make it alive to Thailand, I swear I’ll return home on the first plane. Yes! I’ll take the first flight back. I’m damn lucky I got a round-trip ticket.
Lord, I know I’ve been a sinner and haven’t prayed in a long time, but if you help me get back home, I promise…
The Lord answers me. I start to hear creaks, and the plane shakes up and down. Damn it! We’re all going to die! I’m young! Nooo!
“What’s this?” I mutter with a trembling voice. “What’s with the shaking?”
The voice from the seat in front of me clarifies, “What could it be? We’ve landed, and now we’re taxiing on the runway. Welcome to Thailand!“
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