Irony

The shuffling of tickets and the rattling of wheezing old wheels clogged my head. It was nearly five in the afternoon now. My flight had been set to board at four, but hadn’t arrived. The cerulean sky outside the large glass windows eliminated the idea of a weather intervention. It was a puzzling case, for certain. Perhaps technology issues, or a sick pilot. A slideshow of all the terrible things that could have happened played behind my eyelids as I sunk deeper into my seat. An aircraft taken over by government agents to transport the president to safety. The plane’s nose crashing into the water as helpless mothers cried and held their babies close. Aliens hijacking the machine to investigate the workings of the human mind. I audibly scoffed at that, earning myself a questioning look from a nearby man. My face grew hot with embarrassment and I excused myself to the restroom.

As I left the gate, I was taken aback by the sheer amount of people crowding the walkways. In this instance, “walkway” didn’t feel like the proper word. No one was doing any walking at all. I heard a woman loudly complaining to a staff member, yelling about missing her daughter’s wedding. A young child crying from his place on the cold tile floor. The sound of a flickering bulb somewhere, likely in need of replacement. I pushed my way through the sea of bodies, looking for a bathroom sign. The further I got into the mass, the more uneasy I became. This wasn’t normal.

I spotted a security guard trying and failing to usher people to the sides of the hallway. Clawing my way through the horde, I reached for his shoulder. He turned, the worry on his face apparent. Over the racket, I yelled to him.

“Bathroom?” He cocked his head to the side. I pushed closer to him, using the trash bin next to me as a support.

“Do you know where a bathroom is!” The man nodded. He began to trudge down the hall, but hesitated, probably realizing I was less important than the stampede before us. He pulled out a notepad from his back pocket, along with a pen. I watched as he scribbled directions onto it, and breathed a sigh of relief when he handed it to me. There seemed to be a bathroom just a bit down from here. My bladder was beginning to complain, aching slightly.

The usually dull view of a public bathroom was a welcoming sight by the time I’d reached it. White florescent lights made me dizzy, but I managed to stumble to a rare empty stall. Shredded toilet paper littered the floor.

Although the suddenness of it was uncomfortable, I was grateful for the cool porcelain on my skin as I sat down. The way here had been nightmarish, and my clothes were damp with sweat. They clung to my body, and I regretted wearing so many layers. Still slouched on the toilet, I removed my bulky sweater. It was tossed into the corner on the floor. I wasn’t really concerned with sanitation at the moment.

Lights flickered on and off above me. A speaker somewhere coughed to life, and a strong voice barked out.

“As of four o’clock, no scheduled flights have arrived. We are working on resolving this issue, but until then, we ask that all travelers and crew remain calm. Please take a seat in the waiting area next to your designated gate, and avoid crowding in walkways. Complimentary meals and hotel rooms will be provided if necessary. We apologize for the inconvenience, and appreciate your cooperation.”

When the mic shut off with a click, I heard people complaining angrily from outside. The hairs on my arms stood up straight. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that made me nauseous, and I breathed deeply. It’d been a long time since I’d had a panic attack, but no time like the present, right?

I finished my business and sat up, yanking my sweatpants back onto my bony hips. My shoes whined against the tiles as a stood. I felt my heartbeat quicken. The air was thick, and it felt like I was taking in water instead of oxygen.

I was tossed into the corner the same as my sweater had been only minutes before. Small strands of hair brushed across my face, tickling my skin. I tore my hair back into a ponytail. The material of my shirt was scratchy and rough. I took it off and it joined my sweater on the floor. My necklace sat too heavy on my chest, seeming to push down into my lungs and restrict my already labored breathing. I took that off too.

I could feel my skin against itself in a way that was incredibly unpleasant, my nails were running across my pants as I moved my hands back and forth, and the backs of my shoes were digging into my ankles. I scratched at my arms, trying to get rid of the chilling sensation that had taken over my body. They became red with irritation quickly, but I didn’t care. The pain was grounding, and I was in serious need of some grounding right now. No pun intended.

I blinked furiously, feeling wetness drip down my cheeks. The tears itched as they dried, and my hands flew from my arms to the stained skin on my face. I scratched it until I could feel a warm, viscous liquid gathering under my fingernails. I couldn’t feel the pain of it anymore.

Red splattered the gray squares on the floor. The salty water coming from my eyes should have stung, but I was numb. Realizing this ignited a further frustration in me. This was supposed to hurt. It was supposed to burn.

My head was pounding, and I slammed it against the wall behind me. A wave of wooziness hit me, temporarily quieting my racing thoughts. I pushed back again, feeling the same warmth as before spread down my skull to my shoulders. I was more lightheaded now, my mind going fuzzy. With one last jerk of my head, my brain went completely silent, and my eyelids fell shut.

“Good news, travelers! Our planes were temporarily grounded for inspection, but they are back on track now. Your flights will arrive soon. Please check your Lexington Airlines app, or go to www.lexingtonairlines.com to see your new boarding times. Thank you for your patience, enjoy your travels!”