Traversing the Flight

Though there were many more inhabitants of the island than there were seats on the plane, the flight would not be full. There was no competition for the nonexistent tickets. There was no standby list. There was no shortage of room in the overhead bins. And perhaps most importantly, there was no longer any need to divide the passengers by class.

Today is scheduled the last flight off of the island. It will also be the island’s first flight arriving or departing in over thirty years. There was only one airplane on the island capable of making the voyage to the nearest safe mainland, but it had been in disrepair, and with no flights or ships coming in for so long there were no spare parts available. The breakthrough was made a few days earlier when Manny stopped drinking his moonshine long enough to fix it.

Even though the airport was tiny, by airport standards, it still felt cavernously empty with no check-in agents, no security, no vendors operating, nor any lights on. The airport had served other purposes in the years since the previous flight had taken place, mostly as a shelter, and had long been stripped of most of its useful parts. The children sat on the floor, the grandparents sat on their luggage, and the parents paced about, fretting over Manny’s qualifications as a pilot.

“Do you think he really knows how to fly?”

“Do you know how?”

“I just hope he’s sober enough to do it.”

“Well, that doesn’t bode well…”

Manny was now making his way through what used to be the airport bar, throwing broken stools aside looking for the way back before settling on just climbing over it. He bent down and flung open every cabinet under the bar, rummaged through them one-by-one but ultimately popped back up with arms akimbo and emptyhanded. When he realized his passengers were watching him with profound concern he blushed and told them, “It would be for after the flight, to celebrate,” convincing no one.

It had been known for many years that the island would be swallowed by the ocean, that the world the island constituted would end, and even more specifically that it would happen within some of the current inhabitants’ lifetimes. That is why the flight would not be full. Those that heeded the warnings had left long ago, testing their luck against other lands’ catastrophes. Most of those that remained made what they determined to be a moral decision to stop procreating. The group that gathered in the airport that day were the minority that had remained and procreated, except for Manny.

They didn’t know what caused Manny to stop drinking, whether he stopped of his own volition, simply ran out of supplies, or forgot his recipe, and they didn’t care. Drunk Manny didn’t bother anyone any more than sober Manny, who was generally well received in the kitchens of the elderly women he used to frequent to cure his hangovers. They fed him to feed him, with nothing expected in return, because nobody had time for that.

When Manny started tinkering with the plane, it also went unregarded. Had he been an obnoxious or belligerent drunk, the island folk might have applauded him for his newfound hobby, even while thinking it foolish, but instead it made little difference to them. Of course, that changed when they heard the engine purr for the first time. Though it ran for only a few seconds then, it was a beacon of hope for the families that would become Manny’s cheerleaders up to and including this moment at the airport.

Though they cheered him, they did so privately, as they never asked what his motivation was, not because they weren’t curious (it was the talk of the island, in fact) but because they were afraid their prying would disrupt his focus, that any inquiry would lead to Manny reflecting on his motivation and rethinking it, or that their pressure would lead him back to drink. It was the same type of restrained joy they experienced when they watched their children take their first steps, combating the impulse to encourage and celebrate for fear of distracting them from their hard work and progress. In fact, Manny had been so removed from these hopeful families that several days passed between the final turn of the wrench that completed the repair and him offhandedly telling one of the elderly women over breakfast. It wasn’t long before the parents gathered at his door.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Can it fly?”

“Umm, yeah it probably can.” Some brows furrowed at probably.

“Can you fly it?”

“Well, it’s been a while...” Even more brows furrowed.

“What about a test flight?”

“I don’t think so. No, not enough fuel.”

“When can we leave?”

“Ehh, whenever you want, I guess.”

They wanted to leave the next day. Manny was the last person to arrive at the airport. The grandparents greeted him with adoring smiles and winks while the parents did so with nervous apprehension. Once Manny came back over the bar they all boarded the plane in no particular order. The children chose the seats for their families. There was no safety demonstration and there would be no drink service. Manny started the engines. The parents leaned into the aisle to get a view through the open cockpit door of him flipping switches and turning knobs. Once the plane started rolling, they finally allowed themselves to believe it was happening.

The engines roared as Manny gradually opened the throttle. The parents held their children tight as the plane accelerated down the runway. Later, they would argue over whether they actually left the ground or not. Some said they felt a lift, others were adamant that they had only gone for a drive. By the time they returned to the gate, the parents had accepted that they were not leaving the island. They towed the luggage back inside the airport, the children puzzled, themselves morose, but the grandparents were giggling.

“He made it a lot farther than last time!”

“He did! Oh, I’m so happy for him!”

The grandparents were bombarded with stunned looks from their children.

“Oh, you were too young to remember.”

***

A few weeks later, one of the parents, for the first time in their life, felt the need for a drink. There was only one place to get one. Manny let them in, no questions asked, and poured them a glass, no questions asked. The parent had one, then another, then asked why.

“I always wanted to be a pilot.”