The flight from Texas was as smooth as a baby's behind - and destined to get messy in a hurry . . .
The view outside seat 22A was of nothing. He could see the wing where it blended into the nothingness of the clouds but nothing else. There was absolutely no sense of motion; no rocking of the wing; no sliver of mist washing over the wing; no bouncing turbulence. Except for the steady hum of the engines, he would have thought he was in a movie theater. It was a strange sensation - being absolutely motionless. He glanced around to see if any of his fellow passengers on American Flight 8627 from Dallas / Fort Worth had noticed. Apparently not - most of the business travelers were sleeping and the few families sitting together were quietly reading or playing cards.
They had been in the air for an hour and would be there another two before landing in Baltimore. He had tried to sleep - usually he could slip on his head phone, plug in the ipod and be asleep within minutes, the sounds of soft jazz playing gently in his head. For some reason that hadn't happened this trip. He was wired and he didn't know why. It bothered him.
Maybe it was the flight attendant... the one that kept cracking jokes. His row was one of the four Emergency Exit rows and she had given them all the standard speech admonishing them to agree to open the emergency exit door and to aid the rest of the passengers first - starting with the flight crew - and she in particular. It was cute and she had given the speech many times before, but somehow it clanked this time. She seemed desperate to remedy the situation and kept stopping by during her runs up and down the isle to ad-lib another quip. After fifteen minutes and a few nervous she got the hint and moved on to another fixation. Eventually the cabin lights went off and everyone settled in for the trip.
Perhaps is was his seat-mate. The guy seemed normal enough... both he and the guy had tried unsuccessfully to upgrade to First Class at the departure lounge in Dallas. He never would have noticed the guy at all if it hadn't been for the briefcase padlocked to his wrist. It was a nondescript brown case with heavy chain and cuffs. A courier , he guessed. The guy must have been doing it for some time because he seemed comfortable having the case cuffed to his wrist.
He sat back deep into his seat and closed his eyes again, wanting to sleep through the boredom of the three hour flight. "Lily Was Here" was playing in his ear as he closed his eyes, intent on concentrating on the wailing sax. Instead, another distraction bothered him - the volume of the ipod was too loud. Unusual. Usually he had to crank the volume up high to overcome the drone of the engines...
That was just it... he didn't hear the engines. He sat still, trying to feel the constant vibrating hum of the engines coming through his seat. Nothing. He opened his eyes and glanced out the window. The wind was still there - and so was the gray. That's all. Nothing else. He removed the earphones and listened for the that annoying hum - nothing.
He sat up and glanced around the darkened aircraft cabin, expecting to see people looking around at him - curious looks on their face. Instead all he saw was sleeping passengers and dim light. Nerves, he thought. For some reason I'm just jumpy. He settled back into 22A and glanced out the window, expecting to see the same gray nothingness that had accompanied them for the past hour. Instead, he had the fleeting glimpse of tree tops only feet below the wing. Before he could even register the question in his mind, the plane contacted the first solid object on the ground and began to break up. He heard a scream and wondered if it was his. It was the last thing he remembered hearing.
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The entire world was all one color and that color was white. And the world was silent. No sound and all white. He was dead - he knew he was and that was the end of it. He was conscious of knowing he was dead at that was the end of that too. His consciousness departed - leaving him a little awed that he even knew it departed.
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Consciousness returned and the world had changed. It was still white and still silent - but now it was also cold - and he thought for the first time that he maybe he wasn't dead. He made no attempt to move - didn't know if he could. All he knew was that he was aware... and aware meant maybe alive. Consciousness left again and he stopped being awed.
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He came awake instantly, his eyes snapping open as if wired to a switch. The world was still white - but he knew he was seeing it thru his eyes, and his eyes were working. He blinked and felt his eyelids move. He could feel. Wonderful. He searched his mind, seeking evidence of any pain. Nothing really hurt - although he ached all over, nothing seemed extremely out of service. He flexed his fingers and they responded. He then wriggled his toes and could feel the smooth surface of the leather shoes. He tried to move his eyes and they too seemed to respond, although the whiteness never changed. He started to shiver and realized that he was cold. Consciousness departed him again and it didn't matter.
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He could hear screaming and wondered if was him. He bolted upright, opening his eyes and glimpsing for the first time the reason the world was white - a pair of women's white panties slipped from his head and down onto his lap. He looked at them and wondered where in the hell he had been wearing women's panties on his head. He looked around, finding himself sitting in a marshy bog filled with lilly pads and mosquitos. His clothing was filthy, with tears and rips leaving the majority of it in rags. Amazingly there were only a few scratches on his arms. Nothing else.
He turned his head and glimpsed the marsh. Nothing in view provided the slightest hint as to why he was there. A hard bump to his hand caused him to reflectively yank it away, revealing the smooth brown surface of a bag. He felt around until he found what was left of a handle and pulled a brown briefcase from the muck. He didn't remember having a briefcase, and then realized he didn't remember anything. He stood up and stretched - his muscles responding with resistance and pain. He stretched again and felt wonderful. Holding the briefcase next to his leg, he started off toward the east . . .
. . . to be continued . . .
