The seats were lush and comfortable. We had a care kit, a blanket, and pillow. The moment I was buckled in, I began inspecting the little pouch they’d given me: an eye mask, ear plugs, a toothbrush and the cutest miniature tube of toothpaste. Timothy didn’t even inspect his kit. He said I could have his, too, but why would I want two kits? I took his, just in case.
The airplane was stuffy and hot inside. It was also making all the noises that the San Diego planes had made: the air flaps shifting up and down, the racing motors that sounded like teen drivers daring each other to be first on the drag strip, and the undercarriage that reminded me of a very hungry robot, complaining about its boring diet of oil.
“Penelope, do you want a sleeping pill?” Terry said, leaning forward from the seat behind me.
“No, she doesn’t,” Timothy growled. “We haven’t even lifted up yet.”
I placed my hand over his, reminding him to be nice.
“Sorry,” my husband said, but whether that apology was for me or for Terry, Timothy didn’t say.
A flight attendant stood up in the front and gave a lecture about exits and seat belts. I didn’t pay much attention this time. I knew it was just a regulation the stews had to go through with the passengers and not a forewarning of problems, at least, I hoped it didn’t predict something horrible.
I leaned back against my seat and thought about whether I wanted that sleeping pill that Terry had offered. A pill that put me to sleep would remove all my qualms, but I’d miss any emergency directions, if something bad happened. A pill would probably also make me groggy the next day, too. I wanted to see Fort Lauderdale. I wanted to be conscious every moment.
“You might want to choose what you’d like for dinner,” Timothy said. “And the attendants will want your drink order once we lift up. Cranberry juice again?” he laughed low, his voice not mocking me, but instead sending signals throughout my body telling me I’d like to do certain bed acts that I assumed airlines frowned at.
I wanted to ignore Timothy’s suggestion, just because I needed to curb his need to give dictatorial demands, but then that would be silly, right? I reached for the airline’s booklet and started scanning my choices.