Chapter 1

It wasn't as if I was in a hurry, as any good New Yorker knows, you should always get to the airport three hours before your flight, but also like any good New Yorker, I did not like waiting, especially in situations where I have to rely on other people. I also really did not like airports, especially when I was going to fulfill a family obligation, and not on a fun vacation! 

Thankfully, the airport experience didn’t take any more than 1 HOUR! Did I mention I hated airports?

Now at the gate, as I waited I wanted to start doing some schoolwork. As my laptop battery was about to die, I made my way to a power port right in front of me that was inconspicuously free. I quietly gathered all my belongings and rolled over to the port, but before I got there, I saw, almost in slow motion, a man with slicked-back dark hair in a navy blue business suit beat me to it.

“Hey, that was mine!” I yelled. 

“First come, first serve Ma’am!”

“Ma’am! Do I look like a Ma’am to you?” We were making a scene now.

“Should I be calling you a sir. I apologize.” He said, sits down opening his laptop

I muttered some unfriendly words under my breath to my new sworn enemy and returned to my corner. I had another hour till my flight and I  wanted to finish at least one of my assignments. So for the rest of the hour, I unwaveringly stared at the blue-suited devil as I internally cast curses at him. I hope someone spills something on your laptop and you lose all your work, or you get so into your work that you miss your flight! That will show you to take my port, I unapologetically thought.

He must have caught one of the many daggers my eyes were shooting at him because he turned around to face me. Our eyes awkwardly met for no more than half a second, and I blinked away, pretending to remove something from my eyes. After I was done with my acting, I slowly looked back at him, by the time my eyes had landed back on him, he was back to work. After this point, I decided to keep my eyes on my phone, where I tried to finish my assignment. However, this spoiled my mood even more. Have you ever tried to use a statistical modeling tool on your phone–if not–lucky you. I was this close to throwing my phone on this 1970s carpet, finding a lighter–probably not allowed in an airport–and watching its screen and microchips burn. Didn’t matter that most of my life started and finished with this device. 

I had not even noticed the hour wait disappearing in frustration. So when I heard the air hostess call for any military or handicapped personnel to line up, I confusingly started looking around to make sure it was for my flight, and indeed it was. Again, I was scattered all over and in the time it took me to collect my things, I heard the announcement for group C of the New York to LA flight to start lining up.

Once I collected all my things, I lined up behind the rest of my flight mates, most of whom I noticed had rowdy kids. Poor them, and me.

The line was moving rather quickly and before I knew it I was walking into a small, compact space that was going to be my home for the next six to seven hours. I rolled my almost too-big for this plane bag through the already crowded aisle and looked for my seat, 15B.

After knocking my bag through several seats, I finally arrived at my seat and noticed there was already an occupant there enamored on his phone, not in one of the adjacent seats, but in my seat, 15B. What made me instantaneously angry at this discovery was, that this man was the same one who took my port just mere hours ago.

"Excuse me!" I said in my most can-I-speak-to-the-manager voice, "You're in my seat."

"Oh sorry!" He said looking up from his phone. "Do you mind if I take the middle seat? I don't want to sit by the window," he explained.

Who didn't want to sit by the window? Plus the middle seat was always the worst! When I booked it, I was very angry that this was the only seat I could afford.

For a few seconds, I debated arguing with him plainly for revenge for his crimes against me, but my dislike for the middle seat in an airplane won and I feebly let a “sure” escape.

Before I moved into my seat, I tried to tip-toe my heavy bag into the bag compartment above, but my height proved to be too big of a disadvantage. The blue-suit devil noticed my struggle and got up to play the hero and effortlessly swung the bag into place.

"Thank you!" I hesitantly said and took my new seat.

The theatrics before the plane ride started as the air hostess came around to check our seats and made sure we all had our loose seat belts buckled. Then finally after a total of four hours at JFK, the airplane was moving away.

I looked out the window as the plane's speed reduced the green grass and some small stores around the lane into mere blurs. While I waited for the plane to take off, I felt the armrest next to me move violently. When I looked over to see what had caused this I noticed the seat thief had gripped the armrest and had closed his eyes so tightly that all I could see were the wrinkles of his skin.

I tapped him on the shoulder, and he slowly opened his eyes. Even though he had caused a lot of issues for me today, I realized he helped me twice, once by giving me a better seat and second with my bag, so out of courtesy I asked, "Are you okay?"

"Oh yes, just pre-flight rituals." He nervously answered.

"Ok, as long as one of your rituals isn't to puke all over my seat, carry on," I said.

He went back to his previous position but with a small smile on his face.

The plane eventually lifted off the ground and it took even longer to stabilize in the air, but the seat belt signs went dark once it did, however, the man next to me was not releasing his tightly wound position. I tapped him once more.

Unlike before, this time he did not open his eyes but just mumbled, "Yes."

"You know we have seven more hours of this. Why don't you try to relax or try to fall asleep?" I advised. I am sure it was not appreciated, as I was reminding him his nightmare was not ending for seven more hours. But I did see him take a deep breath and slightly release his grip.

"I am trying but every time I try to open my eyes, they don't listen."

"Want me to pry them open for you?" I joked.

"You can try. Might be the only way." He responded seriously.

I reached over but did not touch his face or eyes, but I gave him a small tickle on a bit of his exposed neck. His eyelids did not open, but he gave a high-pitched giggle and took his grip off the armrest. Step one–completed!

"Ha! We are getting there!" I successfully exclaimed.

At this, he slowly fluttered his eyes open and faced to look at me. I greeted him with a smile. I felt my opinion change from illogical hatred to genuine concern, to happiness at this success.

"Hello!" I greeted

"Hello, and thank you!"

"You got it! Not to be nosy but something really important must be happening in LA for you to get on a plane." I observed.

"Oh it is...it's my ex-girlfriend's wedding." He nonchalantly said.

"Nice, I am going to a wedding as well, but not quite as dramatic as your situation," I commented.

"What if we were going to the same wedding?" He said, gasping theatrically.

"Right, because there is only one wedding happening in LA this weekend. But maybe, is your ex's name, Whitney Claymore?" I asked.

His mouth slowly fell open, it took him a while before he was able to speak, when he was, he said "Oh my god...yes, yes it is!"