29B

This story is by William Zimmermann and was part of our 2017 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

I love to fly. I love everything about it. The thrill of take-off. The chaos of the terminal and the excitement of pending adventure. Waking up in one city and going to bed in another. And, on occasion, I love imagining the romance of meeting a stranger on a plane.

Late last September, I flew back to Syracuse after my brother’s wedding in Minnesota. I bought a cheap flight that I had to wake up early for. Rather than taking two-and-a-half hours on a non-stop flight, a layover in Atlanta made it closer to seven. And I sat in back, with the babies and the bathrooms.

Usually, none of this would bother me. But, it was fall and my allergies were running rampant. Also, I was sick. I was sick before the wedding and three consecutive nights of celebration had only made things worse. Much worse. I was sure I had a sinus infection. I had a headache and, without much sleep that weekend, I was exhausted.

I was dropped at the airport with a handful of Kleenex and a throbbing headache. I brought both with me through security, found my gate and took a seat. Trying to focus on anything other than the congestion in my head, I indulged in one of my favorite airline pastimes.

I imagined I was in the first scene of an airplane movie where something was about to go horribly wrong. Growing up, I watched a lot of movies. The ones about airplanes would always take a disastrous turn. Either the plane would crash on an island, or it would be hijacked midflight. In those movies, no matter the disaster, the cast of characters is always the same.

The bad guys would be played by the physically fit—menacing men with short hair and big arms. The intellectuals would be played by balding men in sweater vests and older women in sensible shoes; they were doctors and professors whose knowledge and calm demeanors would ultimately prove invaluable to the protagonist before the end of the movie.

The newlyweds, the kid on her first flight alone, the big guy with a big heart and the wise foreigner with spotty English are always there, too.

As I boarded, I looked around to cast the passengers in my imaginary film. I spotted the newlyweds right away. They boarded in ZONE 1. Bald and sporting a vest, the professor was seated in 11A. Sitting next to each other in 18B and 18C, two burly bad guys.

A kid by herself in 22A, a foreigner in 26C. Everyone was fitting in well; my movie was coming together nicely. In 29B, though, I had a problem. I usually cast myself as the lead. Not because I think I’m the hero the flight deserves, but because it’s my movie.

After seeing the girl in 29B, I couldn’t imagine anyone else leading the film. She sat calmly with long brown hair and bright blue eyes. Her dark denim jeans and zippered leather jacket fit her perfectly. She was athletic and alert. Her face was long and her lips were full. After seeing the girl sitting in 29B, I forgot all about my imaginary film. I walked unsteadily to 42B.

Ten minutes later, the plane took off. My focus returned to my sinuses—my very painful sinuses. I started to fear the landing and the excruciating change in cabin pressure. I wasn’t able to sleep; just sat slumped over, sick and full of self-pity.

At the gate, as the plane slowly started to empty out, the cabin felt unbearably hot. In my head, I cursed each passenger as they gathered up their gear with care and precision. Then I saw 29B take her turn. I could have imagined it, but I am sure she looked back, right at me, and smiled.

It was another 15 minutes before it was my turn to leave. It was strange, but in that time, my congestion cleared and my fever broke. Weirder still, I had somehow convinced myself that if I saw 29B at the gate, I would say hello. I would do what I’d never done before, I would talk to a stranger at the airport.

Before I had a chance to look around at the arrival area in Atlanta, I was greeted with an announcement form the attendant at the door.

“Excuse me. I’m so sorry, but the airline is having some technical difficulties. As a result, a number of connections have been delayed. Please check the monitors for updated information.”

On a set of screens, I scanned for SYRACUSE. Before I found it, I heard a soft voice on the phone behind me. I looked over to see 29B. She was explaining to whoever it was that her flight to Syracuse had been delayed by a couple hours.

I looked back towards the screen and pretended to be reading while I waited for her to hang up. When she did, I took a deep breath and looked her way. Heart pounding and palms sweating, I opened my mouth and said, “Syracuse, huh?”

It took her a second to realize I was speaking to her.

She smiled, “For a night. Then a bus out to Montreal.”

“Montreal?” I asked. “What are going to Canada for?”

She squinted for a second. Then smiled, “huh?” She couldn’t hear me. With my congested voice and the din of the crowd at the monitors, a conversation was unlikely. She motioned for me to follow her. We walked until we could hear each other talk, then kept walking. She explained that she was spending a semester at an art school in Canada. We talked about our families, school, music we liked. We talked and talked.

Eventually, we both grew hungry and looked for food. The terminal was crazy busy, but we managed to find a sit-down restaurant where the line wasn’t too long.

We stood there, together. Chaos all around us. There was chatter coming from inside the restaurant as wait staff hollered orders to the kitchen staff and the kitchen hollered back. Behind us, the sound from luggage rollers was drowned out by the people dragging them. They yelled into their phones or over their shoulder to family members lagging behind.

Fluorescent lights shined brightly above it all and monitors at each gate flashed flight and weather updates. Safety and boarding announcements were inaudibly read over the loud speaker.

Eventually, a hostess got our attention, grabbed a couple of menus and walked us to an open table. 29B tiptoed her way through piles of luggage, shopping bags, and backpacks, swung herself into the seat and pull herself up to the table; I did the same. We were finally settled.

I looked at her. She looked at me. She didn’t say anything, she just smiled. My heart stopped.

Time stopped. It was five seconds before either of us spoke, but it felt a lot longer. She spoke first, asking me how I was feeling. I was sure I had never felt better. I opened my mouth to tell her, but I couldn’t produce a sound. My sinuses were filling with pressure. The congestion had returned with a vengeance. I felt a sweat form on my brow. A sneeze was imminent.

I grabbed my napkin, turned my head and sneezed. When I turned back, there was no one there. I looked around. No one. The restaurant was empty and my bags were the only ones left. I walked into the middle of the hallway. I looked up and down the terminal. It too, was empty. There was no flight information on the monitors; they were turned off. The fluorescent lights had dimmed and there wasn’t a sound.

In a panic, and unsure of what else to do, I closed my eyes and started counting to ten. Before I got there, I heard the voice of a flight attendant.

“Excuse me. I’m so sorry, but the airline is having some technical difficulties. As a result, a number of connections have been delayed. Please check the monitors for updated information.”

I opened my eyes and looked around. I was at my arrival gate in Atlanta surrounded by fellow passengers from my first flight.

I winced in pain; my head hurt. Confused, I walked across the hall to the monitors and searched for SYRACUSE. I found out my three-hour layover was now five. In a fog, I found my departure gate and took a seat. For five hours, I sat there. I was hungry, but couldn’t eat. I was tired, but couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to think about it. I decided to indulge in one of my favorite airline pastimes.

I imagined I was in the first scene of an airplane movie where two passengers’ eyes first meet. I imagined I was the lead; I was the guy who could talk to a beautiful girl in an airport – and fall in love.