A Rough Flight

Writing Practice #3 Theme: a vehicle Focus: sensory descriptions

John checked his watch impatiently as passengers slowly filed past him, their bags bumping his seat. The flight had already been delayed a half hour; why couldn’t these people move a bit faster? At this rate he’d only have twenty minutes to get to the interview, if that. He adjusted his silver cuff link nervously.

A shadow fell over him. He looked up, and a soft green fabric filled his field of vision. A hairy bellybutton peeked out from the bottom edge, and dark stains appeared further up on either side.

“Excuse me, I believe that’s my seat there,” a deep voice rumbled. John raised his gaze to see the middle-aged man nodding to the seat next to him.

“Oh, yeah, no problem.” John shift his knees over to the side, freeing up a bit of room in front of himself. The man nodded his thanks and began his trek to the other side.  

A wave of body odor washed over John as the behemoth started squeezing past. He turned his head away and held his breath, suppressing the urge to gag. He felt the sweaty shirt press against the side of his face, and his knees were compressed painfully against the armrest. After what seemed like five minutes, the giant flopped down into the neighboring seat. John turned back to the aisle and took in a deep breath through his mouth, resisting the impulse to wipe his suit sleeve across his face.

A few moments later the trickle of passengers dried up and the stewardess began her safety speech. John leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to allow her voice and the gentle rumble from the plane to lull him into a merciful unconsciousness. Eventually, the rumble of the engine grew to an unpleasant volume, his body was pressed up against the plastic back of his seat, and then his stomach dropped. As the plane leveled out he reached up to adjust the air that was blowing on his face; he was already feeling a bit queasy. The stench from beside him wasn’t abating.

“So where are you headed?” the deep voice asked cheerfully.

John glanced at him out of the side of his eye, not quite brave enough to face him head on. “Denver. Sorry man, but I think I’m going to try to sleep through the flight.”

“Oh, sure.” He sounded a bit disappointed, but John really was not in the mood for small talk with a stranger.

John closed his eyes again and focused on his breathing, inhaling and exhaling slowly through his mouth. His tongue soon felt uncomfortably dry, but he didn’t have much choice. Despite the discomfort, he began to drift off…until something bumped against the back of his seat. And then again. And again. He groaned inwardly; there was a kid sitting behind him, wasn’t there? As he sat there, wide-awake, he became painfully aware of the moist heat that radiated from his neighbor’s leg as it contacted his.

Two hours and twenty-seven minutes later, John stumbled down the ramp into the airport. His face looked quite haggard, as well as slightly green. He stopped and took a greedy gulp of fresh air. After a brief pause, he glanced at this watch, straightened out his wrinkled suit, brushed his hair back, and strode away quickly to find a cab.