Love and turbulence

Love and turbulence

I’m standing in line on a plane waiting as passengers board. I sit down in my window seat. There is an empty seat in the middle and a man seated at the aisle.

Later into the flight, the drinks' trolley arrives. The man next to me orders two gin and tonics. He puts his earphones in. We sit in silence.

About two hours into the flight, the seat belt sign blinks and the captain speaks over the intercom requesting that everyone be seated.

A few rows behind me I hear a woman speaking to the airline steward in a panicky, high-pitched voice. Suddenly, the woman jumps up insisting she has to go to the toilet immediately.

Against the protestations of the airline steward, the woman pushes past and locks herself in the toilet. Shortly afterwards, as predicted, the plane experiences turbulence.

A few minutes later, I hear a crashing noise as the toilet door opens and smashes into the bulkhead wall.

Within seconds, I see a woman rolling down the aisle, head-over-heels, stockings trailing behind her. She comes to a sprawling halt just opposite where we are sitting.

The man next to me has his hand on his forehead; he is shaking his head slowly, shading his eyes, ignoring the shoeless woman laying there in the aisle with her dress around her waist and panties at her ankles.

Two airline stewards approach quickly to help hoist the woman to her feet. The now wild-haired woman stands upright, adjusts her clothing and places her hands on the row of seats on either side of the aisle.

As she steadies herself, she glares at the man next to me. Finally, he turns his head towards the woman. Their eyes meet. They each look furious. Suddenly I realise they are together.

After the woman is returned to her seat, I am too embarrassed to make eye contact with the man next to me. In an effort to ease my discomfort, he offers me a simple explanation:

Due to an unfortunate incident several years ago, my wife panics whenever we experience turbulence. For that reason we do not sit together on airplanes. It is the only thing I can do.

A true story.