Dinner at O’Hare only takes up so much of a 3 hour lay over. Especially when there is no one to share it with. So I dragged my carry-on around and around. I finally tired of the endless trek up and down and retired briefly to gate 28, flight 871 to Seattle. A four hour flight to be sure, but I just had to sit for awhile.
Across from me sat a middle aged woman and a man-boy kind of person - not sure if he was her son, or grand son or what. She was having an animated cell phone conversation and he was immersed in some sort of video game. He was doing something on a screen which I couldn’t see, raucously poking it and shaking it, making odd faces of pain and occasional joy. He became really agitated now and then and his mom (?) would just tap his arm to stop his stomping feet. I noticed one of those medical alert dog tags around his neck. I blew out some air and glanced sideways at an imaginary camera filming this (kind of like on ‘The Office’).
I sat there for a moment or two more and noticed the woman had one of those ticket pouches some folks carry around their necks who take cruises and such. Their boarding passes were neatly tucked inside. The clear plastic allowed the seat number to be seen. 8F was on the top ticket. Uh huh. What was MY seat number I wondered. Yeah, I checked. Mine was 8D. which is an aisle seat. 8F is a window seat, which meant, yes, the hidden ticket - HIS ticket, had to be 8E. which was NEXT TO ME. Holy God! No. PLEASE, no. I was sitting next to Unstable Eddie.
I had another hour to brood about this and wondered if I should go have another martini. I elected against that, having just had two plus a large glass of wine. Maybe I could maintain my altitude.
They announced that our airplane had a mechanical malfunction and that it would take too long to repair (like maybe re attaching the left wing or something) so we all did the Bataan death march with our belongings down to gate 23. Mom (?) was extremely annoyed at this but Unstable Eddie found it somehow entertaining. Added to the melee was a gaggle of what looked to be an African refugee family, or perhaps a small village in Somalia, queuing up behind their sponsor who was confused about ticketing and paperwork. I swear to God the little kids looked like they had just got off the photo take at CNN, wearing dusty ragged clothes and such. This was just weird. They all got on the plane and I never saw them again.
We boarded. I had to, of course, get up for mom (?) and Unstable Eddie as they put all their crap in the overhead and clambered into their seats. Eddie crash landed into his seat and began arguing with mom (?). He got out the video game along with a packet of tablets, a syringe case and some sort of blood tester thing from his Darth Vader Space bag. His mom (?) opened a book. Eddie spilled some pills into his hand and quaffed them down with a gulp from the 32 ounce Diet Coke he had brought on board. Then he tested his blood. Then he opened the syringe kit, took one out and stabbed his stomach with it. His mom (?) turned the page.
I gave a long sideways glance into the camera that was surely filming this.
As soon as we were airborne Eddie got up, made an uncomfortable scene struggling past the beverage cart and went to assumedly drain 20 ounces of fluid in the first class toilet. (we weren’t in first class). Fifteen minutes later I had to get up and let him repeat the process. His mom (?) flipped another page. Eddie returned, finished the 32 ounce Diet Coke and ordered two more from the Attendant. Then he passed out. His mom (?) flipped another page.
I looked at my watch. Two more hours to Seattle. And Eddie would awaken soon.
It’s always something.
