Flight Y2K

1903 was a significant year. The airplane was invented by the Wright Brothers. At the time they were a spectacle, but after many improvements and a better understanding of physics, plane designs have drastically improved in the last 90 years. They are considered so normal, that even small prototypes and toys are mass-produced for children’s enjoyment. Adolescents are easily distracted. Probably why parents are constantly shoving playthings in their faces.

A prime example of this is my 9-year-old brother, Cody, who is currently pestering me with his toy airplane, replicating “plane sounds” with his mouth as he waves the model in my face. My parents bought the contraption for Christmas, which was six days ago, and he has not put it down since. There is only a five-year age difference between us, yet he never gets worn out, running around the airport lounge, whacking people as he “flies” his plane around, having done so for the last two hours as we patiently wait to board our flight. Unlike him, I get exhausted from simply tying up my hair, which is why I have opted to sit down and read my book next to my parents, occupied with their Powerbooks, who are somehow able to ignore Cody. I, unfortunately, cannot simply tolerate his irritating behavior.

Slamming my novel shut and placing it in my backpack, I grab Cody’s wrist just as he swings the toy in my face, making him freeze in place. “Let go of me,” he pouts, attempting to yank his hand away. “I will let go if you promise to put that device away,” I say, at my wit's end. “Just let him play with it, he will get rowdy otherwise,” Mom mumbles, not bothering to lift her eyes from her computer. “Easy for you to say, you don’t have a vexatious juvenile shoving his spit-covered plane in your face,” I retort, aggravated. “Listen to your mother,” Dad interjects, just as fixated on his screen as Mom. Sighing, I relent, releasing my hold on Cody’s wrist, making him erupt into cheers as he resumes his playing. “Thank you, Michaela,” Mom says, bothering to look up at me this time. “Why don’t you try occupying his attention for a change so I can get a break,” I suggest, leaning back in my seat. “In a moment, Dear, I just have to finish this document for work,” Mom mutters, already distracted. “It’s New Year's Eve, we should be celebrating and getting excited about seeing Grandma and Grandpa, not whatever it is you do,” I huff in irritation, crossing my arms. “We are consultants, Dear, this is important,” Mom and Dad say in unison. I slink down in my chair, considering my limited options.

Having finished my chapter and already having walked around the airport lounge six times, I take out my Nokia, surprised that it is already 11:50, ten minutes until New Year, meaning we will no longer be in the 20th century. My friend Stephanie, a Y2K conspiracy theorist, warned me not to go on this trip to visit my grandparents for the New Year, but I reassured her that it was just some stupid theory. Entering the year 2000 wasn’t supposed to be scary, it’s exciting, as if the world is resetting itself and if it can do that, I don’t see why I can’t either, starting fresh for my new semester of high school. Maybe when we arrive in South Dakota, I can convince Mom and Grandma to take me shopping for a back-to-school outfit, specifically that cute new halter-neck crop top that Stephanie already owns. If I am the only one at school that doesn’t have one, I will die of mortification. Not to my surprise, I look up to see a girl around my age, chatting to a boy across the room, wearing the exact halter top I am desperate to own.

Briefly crying to myself in agony about how lucky everyone else is, I quickly realize that I can’t find Cody. Immediately, I stand up, scanning the room to see Cody isn’t anywhere. Not a moment later, I am shaking Dad’s shoulder, startling him until he finally gazes up at me. “What now Michaela?” Dad sighs in annoyance. “I can’t see Cody anywhere!” I sob, half-panicking, half-crying. Dad’s eyes go wide as realization dawns on him. He stands up, letting the computer on his lap fall to the ground carelessly. As if I didn’t do a thorough enough look around the room, Dad searches for Cody as well, frantically turning around though we both know he is nowhere to be seen. Panting nervously, Dad tugs on Mom’s computer screen, making her finally acknowledge us. “What is it?” Mom groans. “We can’t find Cody,” Dad explains, tensely. Mimicking Dad, Mom proceeds to stand as well, joining us in the search.

We agree to split up, leaving our items in our seats, to explore the airport. I notice Mom talking to the girl in the halter top as I head down the right airport hall, glancing over my shoulder as Dad goes left. “Cody!” I cry out. In an ideal world, he would come running out, claiming he was playing hide-and-seek, giving me a reason to wring his neck, but in reality, he doesn’t magically appear. Hyperventilating, I continue down the hallway. All the airport stores have just closed, which means he can’t be hiding in there. Possibilities rush at me, was he kidnapped, was he playing a game, or did we just not look close enough and he is exactly where I last saw him? I allow my brain to play tricks on me, each imaginary scenario I make up getting worse and worse. I shout out Cody’s name repeatedly, my voice echoing down the halls, but he doesn’t reveal himself. I circle the entire level once, not a soul strolling around, everyone is already in the lounge, preparing to climb on the flight that leaves in, checking my Nokia, 5 minutes. Having determined he must simply be waiting for us, I don’t bother finishing my second rotation of the hallway, sprinting back in the direction I came. I check my watch again, one minute till Midnight, the beginning of the New Year not seeming off to a good stop.

Counting the remaining seconds in my head, I hear a man over the speaker, statically state, “Will 837 please start boarding, I repeat-”, however, his voice is cut off. Unexpectedly, the lights illuminating the airport all shut off in quick succession, enveloping me in darkness. I am disoriented by the pitch black, unable to see my own hand. Stumbling forward, I use the wall as my guide, hoping I am heading in the right direction and that Mom and Dad have found Cody. Fortunately, my eyes begin to adjust to the abrupt blackout. I call out my parent’s and Cody’s names, hoping that someone will hear me, unable to stand the sudden, eerie silence. Despite attempting to adapt to the dark, I am unable to see the ground, specifically the boulder-like shape that I trip over. Collapsing on the ground, I bang my chin, knees, and palms on the floor, groaning. However, the whimpering sound that follows doesn’t belong to me. Peeling myself off the ground, I roll over, sitting up as I reach out in front of me, touching what feels like a nose. “Cody?” I ask, hopeful. “No,” an unfamiliar voice replies, sounding upset. “Oh sorry, I thought you were my brother.” “Have you seen my parents?” the voice asks, which I determine belongs to a little girl. “I can’t even see you, let alone your parents,” I joke. My teasing doesn’t receive the reaction I was hoping for, instead making her bawl. “No, no, no, I am sorry, I was just trying to make light of the situation, please forgive me,” I rant, grabbing what I think are her shoulders. “I just want my Mommy and Daddy,” she sobs. “I want my family too,” I admit, wrapping my arms around her. I feel her tears and snot drip onto my shirt as she buries her head into my chest while I stroke her back and lean against the wall. Squinting to make out her face, I determine she is no more than six, having a pale face and blonde ringlets that I can barely see. “What’s your name?” I inquire, trying to distract her, knowing how easy it is to distract a child. “Molly,” she sniffs, using her sleeve to wipe her nose. “Nice to meet you, Molly, my name is Michaela,” I say, extending my hand for her to shake. She completely misses my hand, shoving her hand into my chest before pulling away, embarrassed. “Almost got it,” I tease, light-heartedly. “Sorry, I just want the lights to come back on,” Molly mumbles. “I do too,” I concur.

Hating that for once I was wrong and my conspiracy theorist of a best friend, Stephanie, was right, I roll my eyes imagining that if she were next to me, she’d say, “I told you so.” “Can we go look for my family?” Molly pleads. “Only if we can look for my family too,” I reply, pulling both of us off the ground. I reach around in the dark until I find her hand, tightly clasping onto it, having no intention of losing her as well. Using the wall as a guide, I slowly creep down the hall, gripping Molly’s hand tightly. The hallway seems never-ending, darkness and silence shrouding everything. Hearing the sounds of our breathing and footsteps is the only thing keeping me sane in this suffocating environment. As if knowing I can’t bear this any longer, the sound of multiple, albeit panicked voices, makes my spirits lift. I eagerly break out into a sprint, oblivious to how Molly’s little legs are struggling to keep up. I can’t help it though, glad to finally have found the airport lounge where everyone is still waiting from what I can see.

I come to a halt upon seeing a group of three flight attendants huddled together. The sudden stop makes Molly slam into the back of my legs, which causes her to cry, alerting the flight attendants of our presence. “Who’s there?” one asks, her tone anxious. “My bad, we were just trying to get back here,” I explain. “Oh, where were you?” another one questions, suspicious. “We were looking for our families,” I answer, bringing Molly from behind me to my side, and placing my arm over her shoulder. Seeing the young girl, the flight attendants ease up, slowly approaching us before crouching down to look at Molly. “Are you alright little girl?” the third flight attendant asks, gently. Molly silently nods though I tell her to speak up, her having forgotten that none of us can see each other clearly. “Yes I am, have you seen my Mommy?” Molly replies. As if summoned, an adult woman calls out, “Molly!” Recognizing her voice, Molly sprints in the direction of the lady, unaware of where she is walking. Not wanting her to get lost, I run after her, pleading for her to slow down, but this proves to be unnecessary when I hear Molly cry out in happiness, “Mommy!” The pair begin to sob, crouching down on the floor as they hold each other. I step toward them who, in the darkness, now resemble a large ball. Realizing I am present, Molly points at me, “This lady helped me, Mommy!” “Thank you, Miss,” the woman says, grateful. “It was nothing,” I reply, pretending to act unfazed. “Let’s go find Daddy, he’s right over there,” Molly’s mom says, standing up as she grabs her daughter’s hand.

I watch them walk away in the opposite direction, feeling satisfied that I helped her. Remembering I haven’t found Cody and now my parents, my satisfaction is replaced with dread. “Everyone, everyone, calm down, we will get the situation handled and the power will be back on in no time!” a man, who I determine to be head of security, exclaims, attempting to sound reassuring. “You can’t get the power back on, this is that Y2K thing all the youngsters were talking about!” an elderly-sounding lady shouts. “I assure you that is just a lie produced by the media. We are merely having technical difficulties.” Soon the entire crowd begins complaining, trying to shout over each other as the head of security fails to diffuse the situation. Not recognizing any of the voices as my family’s, I sit down on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest as I let the horde of people argue it out. Laying my head on my knees, I rock myself back and forth, wishing for my parents and Cody to return.

“Everything is down, we can’t even get the planes working, no one is going anywhere,” a new person reveals. Looking up, I make out a man that is wearing a pilot uniform. “You mean we are stuck in this airport indefinitely!” the old lady wails. “There has to be a way out!” someone else pleads. Desperate cries echo through the room as everyone begins running to the pilot. I am knocked over on the ground as people shove past me. I crawl into a ball, feeling feet kick into me, as they try to reach the front. My head, unfortunately, makes contact with a foot, pain spreading through my skull, feeling concussed. Refusing to get trampled, I begin crawling away from the panicked crowds. When I am sure no one is near me, I dare to stand up, wobbling as I find my footing, definitely feeling concussed now. Focusing my eyes after a moment, I make out the silhouettes of the crowd all gathered together in one area, loud and angry noises coming from the huddle. Glad I can’t see anything properly since the sight of the booming stampede would probably be alarming, I proceed to trudge down the hallway, away from the masses.

I don’t take five steps before I see three figures walking toward me hand in hand. Relief floods me as I realize who is approaching. I sprint toward them, enveloping my family in a hug, feeling their arms wrap around me as well. “Are you alright, Michaela, why is there a bump on your head, why is everyone screaming, what is going on!” Dad rambles. “It doesn’t matter, let’s just get away from here,” I beg. Glancing down at Cody, I can’t help but feel conflicted, wanting to strangle and hug him at the same time. Choosing the latter, I crouch down, to squeeze him, “Don’t ever do that again,” I scold. “I just wanted another plane, there was a toy store down the hallway,” Cody mumbles into my stomach. Not wanting to suffocate him, I step away, allowing him to gasp for breath. “Why would you want another plane?” “So we could play together,” he replies. All my anger dissipates as I embrace him again. “Relax, I wasn’t able to get the plane, I was busted by Dad before I could,” Cody grumbles. Releasing him, I gaze into his eyes, “It doesn’t matter, I am just glad you are alright.”

“We should see what’s going on,” Dad suggests, grabbing mine and Cody’s hands. I proceeded to grip Mom’s as we head back into the chaos, the crowds seemingly having settled down. As we make our way around the corner, we notice everyone is awkwardly standing around, acceptance of what has happened finally dawning on them. I look at Molly who is being consoled by her parents in the corner, glad she is alright. The security guard and pilot are deep in conversation, sparing wary glances at the crowd. Finishing their conversation just as we arrive, the two men turn to address all of us. “Alright, everyone, we have a plan-” “What is that!” the old lady screams, pointing to the window behind us. Everyone turns their attention to outside. We make out a large, stretched shape heading toward us, seemingly falling out of the sky. It takes me a moment to realize it is a plane that was probably affected by the Y2K shutdown and is now about to crash into us. The masses begin frantically running around but it is no use, there is nowhere to run. Turning to face my family, we huddle in a circle, wrapping our arms around each other as we accept the inevitable.

I brace for impact but all I suddenly feel is a sharp object digging into my head. Looking up, I immediately see the lights are on and the airport is bustling as if everything is normal. Confused, I gaze around. Mom and Dad are still on their computers oblivious to my existence and Cody is running around the airport with his plane. It is as if nothing has happened, the sharp object which I thought to be the plane making contact was just my metal armrest. “Finally awake are you?” Dad remarks, glancing up at me. “Is this heaven?” I ask, bewildered. “I would hardly call a California Airport paradise,” Dad scoffs. “So I dreamt all that?” I gasp. “You were asleep for like three hours,” Dad reveals. That means the lights going out, Cody getting lost, and the plane crashing, was all a dream. Surprised by how realistic the dream was and how relieved I am it wasn’t real, I sigh as I lean back in my seat. Just as I do so, a little girl, who I recognize as Molly, runs toward me, now clutching a teddy bear and smiling instead of crying. “Excuse me, Miss, what time is it?” she asks. Pulling out my Nokia, I read the time, “It is 11:50, Molly.” “Thank you, Miss. Wait how do you know my name?” Not knowing what else to say, I reply, “I guess we’ll find out how in ten minutes.”