It’s Always Sunny at 30,000 Feet

I went for a 4 mile walk today. I wear a weighted vest which means I can call this a ruck instead of a walk, so I don’t sound retired. In the military when we walked with a pack we called it a hump, which is weird when you talk to your mom on the phone, “today we went for a 20 mile hump” then her silence. So ruck is a better word for this stuff. I saw a plane streaking across the empty sky and thought of the people on board, each with a story. Each going somewhere. I came up with this…

In seat 17A Sarah Robes rested her head against the window and watched the landscape below. Green and brown squares neatly placed like a checker board. She looked forward to seeing Frank, her long time boyfriend. He had been gone for four years since joining the military and it had been a year since their last visit. She missed him. He is back from Japan, back on US soil, and even though he was still so far away, he seemed closer. Tonight they would share a meal, a drink, a bed.

In seat 2D, first class, Franklin Denny typed on his computer, ignoring the flight attendants that offered soft drinks and complimentary mini bottles of booze. He was in a hurry to finish a contract before they landed and his meeting with Hilary Gross, of BSC. He spelled out the terms of his “golden parachute” and after fifteen years of profitability he knew he had earned every penny coming to him.

In the cockpit, Fran Dissal, the captain, glanced at the gauges in front of her, then turned her attention to the novel in her lap. The first officer, Lenny Kane, maintained radio contact with ground control and adjusted the heading and altitude knobs of the autopilot. Their speed, 450 knots, has them right on time for a landing on runway two one left. Lenny knew the airport well, this route well. The pilots called it the milk run. He had a tee time with his son. With some luck he could catch an Uber at the curb and beat his son to the clubhouse and pay for both of their rounds. He owed him a round after taking a two stroke loss the last time he was in town on the milk run.

In seats 45D and F are privates Dimingo and Luis. They’re returning after ten days of leave and are still whispering about Lara Love, she’s in seat 43A and the two marines noticed her at the gate. They each won a little money at the casino last night and hoped with this new found luck she would be seated between them in seat E.

Lara Love relaxed in her seat and read on her kindle. Her agent summoned so she caught the next flight. It made her feel important to phone the airline and use the phrase, “I need to be on the next flight.” Her second book was due three weeks ago but she was making progress. The publisher understood, but wanted to meet. The first one had sold well, a summer beach read about new love. She loved the turquoise blue cover and chose a red sharpie to sign it with during the short book tour of bookstores around her city and a few others. It was all a thrill ride after studying English and Creative Writing. She had proven her father wrong, there was real money to made in romantic fiction.

The flight attendants in the main cabin moved the cart down the aisle and the mood among the passengers lightened. Soon they would have a glass of something cold, or something alcoholic if you’re willing to pay 30,000 foot prices. $6 for booze, $5 for wine, cash or credit. There was a smirk on the face of the male flight attendant when he mentioned this over the flight intercom. Let’s all have a drink and relax, kind of smirk. His name was Fredrick and his mom bragged about how many countries he’d visited in his three years with the airline.

Seats 40A, B, and C are occupied by Jenee and her two kids, Brock and Brett. Her husband, Tanner, was in 42A. He tried to get a seat in the same row so he could help with the boys, ages 2 and 3, but it wasn’t to be. The boys stood on their seats and waved at him, he smiled, the two prides of his life and a vacation to relax. Jenee hushed the boys, and told them to sit down in a stern voice, uncaring of the people around her. She was a mom and this was required of her, she thought.

A man in 26A, an emergency exit row, opened the sub sandwich he bought in the terminal and immediately regretted asking for red onion. A retiree in 30A regretted not going to the bathroom before the beverage cart blocked the aisle. She had on an absorbent undergarment but was prideful and didn’t want to leak. The divorcee in 5A checked her make-up, then checked it again six minutes later. A rich guy bought her a first class ticket and offered her a fun weekend, “Nothing sexual,” he promised, online.

Fran, the captain, opened her airline issued biscotti. This small transgression wouldn’t fuck up her diet, she thought, savoring the cookie between her tongue and the roof of her mouth until it dissolved in to a sweet vanilla paste.

Lenny checked in with ground control, then sipped his diet Pepsi and thought about that dogleg on the sixteenth hole that cost him a double bogie last time. Maybe this time he’ll try a three iron on the second shot and lay up before the sand.

Beverage service ended, and the garbage was collected. This the was the quiet time. After their cookie, the passengers, tired of the novel or magazine, looked out the windows like zombies, or slept. The middle of the flight, cruise is set, heading maintained, speed steady. An hour later Fran Dissal broke the silence. She thanked the passengers for flying her airline. The weather was sunny and warm, and the passengers responded with smiles. Then, with pride, she announced they would arrive a few minutes early. She smiled at Lenny.

The passengers in the seats behind the wing, those rows, 32 and up, watched as the flaps extended to fifteen degrees. All the passengers felt the plane ease when Lenny lowered the speed on the flight director, slowing the engines.

They would be on the ground in twenty minutes.

In 17A Sarah Robes thought about the pregnancy test stashed in her purse. She bought is after being six days late. She was gonna use it that morning in her apartment but didn’t. The rest room in the termial was busy and, surrounded by stainless steel partitions, she couldn’t bear the news there, either way. She had the feeling Frank was going to propose to her, again, and now, the flaps extended and only minutes before landing, without knowing the results of that test, she had few options if he did.

Franklin Denny, in 2D, finished the contract and ordered a bottle of Goose. He stowed his tray and looked forward to butting heads with Hilary Grosse, the CEO of the company that had bought him out. Besides the sale, he and his wife needed two hundred thousand a year to maintain their lifestyle, their country club, the Range Rover and a Tesla. But was that going to be enough? He second guessed his math. He couldn’t open his laptop and revise the contract now. Maybe in the taxi to her headquarters he could make some quick revisions. He needed another Goose to calm him but it was too late.

In the cockpit Fran and Lenny worked as a team on the checklist. The flaps were now at thirty degrees, the engines nearly at flight idle. Lenny thought of his son, of how much they enjoyed golf and the light competition. He was proud of his son, a big handsome guy who played some college ball before deciding to concentrate on his studies. He wanted Lenny to meet his new partner this time. Partner. Not girlfriend. Partner.

Jenee strapped the boys into their seats, 40B and C. She needed this vacation for a few reasons, a break from the housework, the laundry, and to get her lazy husband way from whoever he’s been thinking about when she let him have sex with her.

Privates Dimingo and Luis looked out the window. Ten days of leave seemed like a long time but it disappeared in a snap. They’ll be flying again soon, a military chartered 747 bound for Afghanistan. They remained poised, unwilling to let anyone see the worry. They both thought about the blonde hair and tight jeans on Lara Love.

Lara Love held her phone low so the flight attendant wouldn’t see her checking her email. There was an update from her agent. The publisher asked that part of her advance be returned for each day her new beach read was late. She looked out the window. The balance in her checking account was less than two hundred dollars. She might have to borrow from her father.

In the cockpit Lenny lined the airplane up with runway two one left. He set the flaps at forty five degrees and selected the gear handle down. The localizer and glide slope both captured, the runway was dry.

The milk run would make a smooth landing indeed.