Pencils & Polaroids

31: I want to dye

I've flown across the country several times to visit Grandma on the east coast. I've flown out of the country a couple of times with her because she is a sucker for traveling. But this is by far the first time I've felt the pressure of every minute passing by, sitting in my seat, anticipating the takeoff. I'm conscious about my breathing, my actions, my posture, and my facial expressions (which is a constant juggle between bitch face and annoyance) but I'm conscious about everything because of who I'm sitting next to. 

The air hostess gets prepared for the mandatory reiteration of rules and regulations in regard to the aircraft and I couldn't have grown more impatient. Restlessly, I start tapping my foot after crossing one of my legs over the other. With folded arms, I screen through the remaining other seats. 

On my other side sits a middle-aged man draped in a navy blue suit and a business magazine sprawled over his lap. He gives me a side glance upon my eyeing him and the ends of his lips curl just a little. You see, he doesn't know that I am the grumpy type. I don't normally smile at people I know, forget strangers. Apart from that aspect of my personality, I don't smile back for another specific reason. 

I can sense questionable intentions veiled in that smile. And ladies please back me up here, we as a clan instantly get to know when a man looks at us with impure intents. His knees separate and spread out, as if on cue, to confirm my suspicion. I nudge my leg away just before his knees brush against mine. 

My heart tells me to let it go but my mind is already steps ahead in playing a future scenario where I poke his eyeballs with my bare fingers and the crew on board is assisting him in a stretcher to the nearest hospital. This strikes one, so I look ahead, giving out warning sighs wishing he better takes the hint to save his goddamn life. 

Amidst the announcements, I see Rainer moving further into the window as if he's making space for me to scoot away from the man on my other side. The armrest however separates me from both of them, but I still take the chance and move closer to Rainer's seat, putting even more distance between me and the sick man. 

When I glance at Rainer, he's peeking out of the window, with his face turning pale by the second. I see his hands balled up into fists and completely pasty. He's gulping, gluing the back of his head to the seat, and closing his eyes for debatably long seconds. 

"Is this your first time?" I pose a question to which his eyes suddenly open. 

He takes a moment to tear his head from the headrest and sit upright, loudly clearing his voice and letting out deep breaths. "No." He mutters before glancing outside the window again. "I don't like the take-off and landing part." 

I frown for just a second before it hits me. "Because it speeds. The aircraft speeds and you're scared of speed." 

His eyes slowly turn to me in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. "Yes, why don't you say it a couple hundred more times? I'll probably feel much better." 

Folding my lips and raising my hands in defense, I gesture to him that I'm backing off. He sighs again, moving further to peep outside the window. He definitely didn't move for my sake. I don't think he even saw the silent fishy exchange between me and the man beside me. But since his acts of fear served in my favor, I decide to return it. 

"The more you peep the more you'll get scared. Stop looking, sit straight, and close your eyes." I tell him without meeting his eyes. 

Without any further questions, he does what I tell him to do. I see him gripping the ends of the armrest separating his seat and mine with added force. He doesn't just close his eyes, he forcefully presses them shut. And to my surprise, it's not just his head but his entire back glued to the seat now.