The plane smelled of mothballs, or old people. The seat upholstery scratched at my skin as I sat back impatiently. Mighty Joe made it near impossible to move at all, squishing me to the farthest corner of my seat near the tiny window where I could observe the flying world around me. It was safe to say that his pudgy arm took up the entire seat rest. It was hard enough for me to fly. I had always hated the experience ever since my first plane ride back when I was five. The last time, two years ago, I had even gotten sick in the bathroom. Something about the descent particularly made me nauseous and my ears always crackled painfully like popping bubble wrap. And yes, I have tried the "gum trick". It only made the experience more nerve-wracking and torturous. Maybe medication would be the welcome solution. Either way, as the plane began to rattle and shudder to take off, I just shut my eyes as tightly as possible and shrunk back in my chair.
It wasn't that I was afraid of heights, or even of crashing for that matter. But what I did hate was being squished between a wall and a giant, with no plausible exit. Finally the plane came into balance high up in the sky and the sign flashed off for the seat belts.
"It is now safe to use approved electronics. Enjoy the rest of the flight." A cheerful automated-like female voice spoke through the speaker. The boulder immediately whipped out his Ipod from his pocket and pushed two ear buds into each ear. It was a damn shame I hadn't brought mine.
It was useless attempting to glimpse other passengers shoved in this tiny corner so I had no choice but to shove up the shade and look out at the wispy passing clouds that surrounded the plane. I side-glanced Cruella once, but she appeared to be enthralled with a Vogue magazine. Bitch. She should have bought me one. Isn't her job to make sure I'm taken care of? I thumbed through the reading material in the chair pocket, all standard plane reading and instructions. Eventually I just absently settled on pulling out one of the safety warnings packets, wondering when exactly the quality snacks would arrive. I briefly scanned the glossy pages detailing exactly how you would reach your life jacket and where the escape was should there be an emergency of any kind. Lame. Within hours I would be practically on my own, in a completely foreign place with no hope of returning home. If that didn't scare the shit out of me, I don't know what would, certainly not the possibility of this plane crashing.
I should have just packed a book on the stupid carry-on bag I had under the seat, but heavy duty reading always made me sick in moving vehicles. Eventually I just wriggled around until my head was in a moderately comfortable position and turned the spew of cold air away from my face as I focused on the window so I wouldn't have to to look at Georgy Porgy. Somehow I managed to drift in and out of consciousness. Unfortunately, Buzz started hog-snorting on my left. The plane assistant came and left with my plastic cup of Sprite and 100 calorie- pack of Cheezits. Before I knew it, we were in California. Of course the sun was bright, the exotic trees were thriving, and the grass was...browning. I'd always wanted to come here on vacation but of course Mom had always objected because of the distance. I couldn't exactly blame her. We weren't the richest kids on the block and the distance was half the country.
It just sucked that these were the circumstances I was coming here in and under them, I would only stay at the airport for a few hours. Sarah, you backstabber, the thought popped into my head once more as I stepped out annoyed and aching onto the platform feeling dizzy and chilled. We briefly passed by the opening of hot, humid air and then immediately came into a huge A/Ced room that was the San Fran airport. Dumbo led us right off into a world of fast-food deliciousness and practically jogged to the McDonald's. I would have laughed if it wasn't so ridiculously predictable. Miss Priss was nowhere to be found so I had no choice but to follow him. A glimpse of blond hair stopped me in my tracks, but it was only some middle-aged surfer dude.
"Tell me where we're going," I demanded while we stood in line.
I guessed we were about to be dropped off somewhere in the Middle East, thrown into the endless danger that always lurked there. Or maybe in China, or India. Lose us in the huge crowd that consumed the countries. He ignored my demands, instead squinting at the menu.
YOU ARE READING
Chosen
Action"I don’t know why I was chosen. I had only thought of it before in passing. Everyone chosen before was always in a different country, a world away. But here I was, the message sent, the alert out. There was only one other person chosen that I knew...
