Thoughts in Flight

That smell. Our pilot keeps changing speed, he can’t decide. No movie. You fidget like my son. I’m screaming inside. Excruciating feelings of claustrophobia ripple through me. My muscles may burst. Just go, seatmate. My thighs are sticking to the seat. Sweating. Why did I wear a skirt? Delayed 4 times. 2:00 am arrival. Feet are cramping, burning in my shoes. Ears slowly blocking out airplane noise like going underwater. Just get up. Give me another cubic foot to breathe in unoccupied space. I can’t reach the air flow control above me. Sweating again. Checking his watch again, the time is right there glowing on the useless screen in front of him. Sweating again. 24 minutes to arrival. Fidgeting and more smell. I dig through my carry on to find my skin oil desperately trying to infuse another scent other than human excrement. I’m asking for a credit for my inoperable tv screen. The plane begins to descend and the babies begin to cry, unable to process the pressure in their ears. Too young to hold their noses and blow. The man next to me continues to fidget and twitch. He needs a bathroom but is unwilling to go on the plane. I can’t tell if the smell is coming from him or behind me, in front of me, it’s everywhere. The turbulence begins but i am grateful for a distraction. We’re landing soon. A baby is screaming now and there’s nothing anyone can do. We all feel the same way but are forced to contain our inner anguish to keep up the guise of civility. I wonder if this will become inner trauma that will manifest in therapy. Has anyone done a study on that? Another baby joins the cry of solidarity for the underrepresented. I know it will get worse before it gets better. It does. The wheels touch down and we bounce to a prolonged stop. Passengers chatter excitedly grateful to be near the end of this leg of the journey. The lights blast on alerting us to attention. We sit at the gate exposed and impatient, the temperature rapidly rising by degrees as the on-board ventilation takes a break from circulating our fetid breath. We silently judge each passenger that delays disembarking. We tick the boxes on our judgemental check lists. We admire efficiency above all else right now. We each anxiously wait for our own turn to be judged as we outwardly, politely wait to leave this blessed plane. Grateful for a safe landing, absorbing bits of pleasant humanity, we are ready to go home.