E62

Prompt: Write about someone who strikes up a conversation with a stranger during a flight.

E62

I held my breath.  Although I travel for a living, I loathe airports and the congestion. I detest hordes of people in general, especially when it comes to close quarters. Either they are over perfumed or are significantly lacking in proper hygiene. There is no place to hide. There are no oxygen masks for clean air unless your plane is in a mid-air crisis. Let’s hope there is no crisis. For now, I just have to grin and bear it.

My uber pulled up to the departure drop off zone at the international terminal. Fortunately, I had prepaid my ride, and I was only traveling with a carry on bag. Nonetheless, it was a Wednesday afternoon as crowds of people made their way through the TSA checkpoints. Wednesdays were preferred because the evening departures afforded one to sleep most of the time while airborne. For myself, however, my journey would last about 16-17 hours. I was on an Airbus to Singapore from JFK airport. International travel frayed my nerves and my level of angst sky rocketed. No restful sleep would be on my itinerary. I turned my anxiety inward not wanting to express ill will to the TSA agents. I can imagine how difficult it must be to work with a self-absorbed public having virtually no patience and limited manners. I am thankful my occupation is focused on manufacturing computer chips. I only have to deal with a few Chinese businessmen. Any dialogue is through a third-party interpreter.

Over the public address system, I heard the final call for my flight number and gate which happened to be on the far end of the terminal, naturally. I felt like I was a football player running through the corridor trying to score the winning touchdown. I finally reached the departure gate, reeking of sweat and old cologne, much to my dismay of my own hypocrisy toward other peoples' hygiene.

The procession of people into the Airbus had been completed. I was the very last person to pass the check-in gate with no time to spare. My tardiness resulted in my prearranged seat to be reassigned to someone else.  The airline host was indignant. I thought I heard him whisper to himself that it would have been better if I missed my flight. In a way, I wish I had delayed my trip, but that would have cost my company hundreds of thousands of dollars in lost revenue.

With a stern look on his face, he gave me a seat in the most remote section of the plane. It might as well have been inside the restrooms or on a drink cart. But at least it was a seat, D62, in the very last row. Only one other seat was adjacent to mine, E62. To my left were the toilets as I feared.  

Passengers were still jostling around moving bags and parcels in and out of the overhead bins. The airline stewards were annoyed that I had yet to take my seat. I was annoyed at them for not assisting me. Finally, I reached my seat. There was no place to stow my carry on so I had to crumple it under the seat in front of me. When I became situated, I plopped feverishly into my seat.  The individual next to me in E62 took no notice of my presence.

The control tower quickly gave the plane clearance to take off.  I was too exhausted to notice the plane was airborne. I was so fatigued I drifted in and out of consciousness. It was about two hours into my flight when I took a look over at my neighbor sitting in E62. His facial features were unremarkable. He had black hair. His skin was tanned like one from the Middle East. He was attired in a black suit, a black satin shirt and black tieless shoes. His demeanor was subdued. I sensed he knew I was giving him the “once over” on his appearance, but he remained silent.

About four hours airborne, the food carts made their way down the aisles. Naturally, their point of origin was from the back of the plane. There was commotion and confusion sorting out meals, drinks, and snacks.  I could only hope it would end soon. My hope was I would be one of the first but that was not how it was going to work. They bussed the carts forward leaving me empty handed until my turn.

I turned to my neighbor in E62 protesting, “It just doesn’t seem sensible that we could not get our meals first. I figure it would have been a small consolation having to sit across from the toilets all the way in the back of the plane.” I was hoping to illicit some sort of response, but he continued to look forward almost like he was in a trance.

At long last the meal service arrived. I had the offering of the day which was a processed chicken patty and vegetables that looked like they were retorted in a tin can. The person in E62 left his tray table in the upright position remaining quiet as I ate my meal. When I finished that sumptuous meal, I decided to initiate a conversation with E62 hoping to pass some of the time since I really could not nap.

I said, “My name is…” He stopped me short of saying, “I will not remember who you are.”

Looks like he is not interested in who I am, I thought to myself. Perhaps he may be more willing to share things about himself. So, I asked him “What do you do for a living?”

Succinctly he replied, “Collections.”

I responded, “You collect things. Like money? Or antiquities? Or treasures? Do you work for the IRS? Or a famous art gallery? Or a financial institution?”

My E62 neighbor said, “I collect individuals.”

My eyes opened wide as I asked him, “What kind of individuals do you collect? I figure you must work in human resources as a recruiter. What type of people interest you?”

Then it hit me. He looks like he might be a mortician.

He said, “All kinds, but especially those that are hypocrites, purveyors of falsehoods, manipulators, self-righteous zealots, power mongers, celebrities.”

Oh, this is a riot I chuckled to myself. He’s not a mortician. "You are a talent scout for some big wigs in Hollywood."

Enraged he said, “You are a fool! Heed my warning! The way of the godly leads to life; that path does not lead to death.” ⁽¹⁾ None of us can hold back our spirit from departing. None of us has the power to prevent the day of our death. There is no escaping that obligation, that dark battle. And in the face of death, wickedness will certainly not rescue the wicked.” ⁽²⁾

He continued, “Do you know where the gates of death are located?  Have you seen the gates of utter gloom? ⁽³⁾  Only the Christ knows and has seen the gates!  For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life through Christ Jesus our Lord. ⁽⁴⁾

Suddenly, the plane’s fuselage began to vibrate. The sound of it was deafening. From the windows I noticed that the engines were ablaze. Smoke was forming in the cabin. Shrieks of panic filled the air. Bags catapulted out of the overhead bins.  It was a tumultuous scene. There was an incredible impact followed by a horrific blast. I smelled oil and putrid smoke before I lost consciousness.

The fogginess lifted from my thoughts. The aviation board questioned me about what I knew before the explosion. I remember now what the passenger in E62 told me. Just before the plane crashed, he said his Hebrew name was Azrael. But others call him Abaddon; and others refer to him as Apollyon.  I later discovered that I was the lone survivor of that horrible crash that day. Three hundred twenty-one souls were lost in the carnage. I asked about the passenger in seat E62. The investigators said there was no passenger in seat E62 on the plane’s manifest.

-END-

(1) Proverbs 12:28 (New Living Translation)

(2) Ecclesiastes 8:8 (New Living Translation)

(3) Job 38:17 (New Living Translation)

(4) Romans 6:23 (New Living Translation)

For if you live by its dictates, you will die. But if through the power of the Spirit you put to death the deeds of your sinful nature, you will live. (Romans 8:13, NLT)

Author: Pete Gautchier

Acknowledgement: Reedsy.com prompts