A Strangers Service

I despised flying. Heights to be exact. I didn’t like the feeling of placing my life into someone else’s hands, especially when those hands were navigating an airplane at 30,000 feet in the air.

I arrived at the airport a couple of hours early, eager to be rid of my luggage and clear security. The nerves had already begun to set in and I decided a coffee was the best solution. I wandered over to the nearest coffee bar and took a seat at an empty table. My fingers briefly flipped through a menu but I already knew what I wanted. Dark roast, decaf, obviously. I had every intention of sleeping through the ten-hour flight to England and caffeine was not going to be my friend. I placed my order and leaned back into my chair, taking slow, controlled breaths and watching the steady flow of people filtering in and out of the airport. I sat for a while, alone with my thoughts and mentally prepared myself for the upcoming journey. A new job opportunity, I thought to myself. This will change my life.

Little did I know how true those words would turn out to be.

Eventually my terminal was announced and I made my way over to the gate. My fingers were wrapped around a bottle of sleeping pills, my grasp so tight that the plastic had become sticky from sweat. I found my seat and glanced around erratically as the plane gradually filled up. My breathing had quickened and I could feel my heart rapidly thumping. A few times my stomach lurched and I thought I might show the other passengers what I had eaten for breakfast, but to my relief it soon settled down. It was a cold day, but my temperature said otherwise. I gulped down a few sips of water, at the hope of cooling off. The liquid ran down my throat and gathered at the pit of my stomach. An older gentleman approached from the isle, squeezing past me to get to his seat. He expressed a loud groan as he lowered himself down to his chair and I watched as he looked me up and down, taking in my flustered appearance, before tutting and adjusting his body so his back faced me. I decided to take no notice, ironically grateful for the momentary distraction. A younger woman took the seat to my right. She was of a similar age to me, early twenties I guessed, and we exchanged timid smiles as she adjusted her seatbelt. Shortly after, the stewards performed their safety precautions, a routine I vigilantly studied. The woman at my side sensed my unease and gestured to the bottle of sleeping pills still clutched in my hands.

“What are those?” She asked.

I observed a hint of compassion in her question. She seemed genuine. Actually interested, and not just passing the time until take off.

“Sleeping pills”, I replied back. “For the nerves”, I added, not wanting to be perceived as blunt.

“Ahh smart choice”, she responded. “Take off is always the worst bit. After that it’s a smooth ride”.

I smiled graciously, reassured by her comforting words.

“My name is Abby”, she said.

“I’m Grace”, I replied back, a sudden sense of calmness washing over my body. I observed the final flash of the fasten your seatbelt sign and watched the elderly man to my left struggling to pull down the window shade. This is it, I thought. We’re about to take off.

The plane had begun its ascension and we were climbing higher and higher with each passing second. 5,000 feet… 10,000 feet… 15,000 feet... The entire aircraft shook and I was briefly lifted upwards in my seat. My eyes frantically darting around, ensuring that none of the other passengers were displaying signs of panic. Abby interrupted my line of sight with an expression of reassurance, temporarily setting my mind at ease. I breathed heavily and unscrewed the cap of my sleeping pills, dropping two of the tablets into my outstretched palm. They slid down my throat with the assistance of a little water, and in no time at all I had drifted off to sleep.

I awoke sharply to a high-pitched ringing that spread like a boomerang around my ears. It took me a few seconds to figure out that the source of the sound had come from a woman, screaming. She was shrieking at the top of her lungs, a harrowing wail that splintered through my head leaving me paralysed in my seat. Fear overtook my body and I became rigid where I sat, left fixated on the scene unfolding in front of me. Standing passengers were racing back to their seats, the ones already sat were wrestling with their seatbelts in a struggle to reattach them. A deafening wave of screams was unleased and I scanned the plane desperately, consumed with confusion. Why are people screaming? I thought, afraid that I already knew the answer. My suspicions were confirmed when I felt the plane violently drop and my heart entered my mouth. Terror devoured me. Engulfed me. Inhaled me. For a brief moment time seemed to stand still and the piercing screams of trembling passengers was drowned out by the hammering sound of my own raging heartbeat. I was brought back to reality by Abby, who grabbed my shoulders and awoke me from my daze.

“Hey. Hey. HEY!”, she cried out successively, forced to shout over the overwhelming commotion circulating either side of her. Her eyes were bloodshot, shining with tears that she held in, determined not to let them escape down her cheek. The plane shuddered once more. A sharp motion that was met by another round of outcry from frantic passengers. I was slammed into my seat, glued to the fabric beneath me as the airplane plummeted downwards.

Now I was screaming.

Panic had taken possession of me and robbed me of logic and reason. As the aircraft hurtled towards the ground, I took one final glance at Abby, barely able to distinguish her face through the pool of tears clouding my vision. She too was pressed down against her seat, her mouth gaping open and face occupied by an expression of horror. She weakly raised her hand to mine, grasping it tightly, as together, we plunged towards the ground. She was a stranger. A woman I had just met. But in my last few moments I felt as if I had known her all my life. Her eyes burnt into mine, and without saying a thing we exchanged a look of gratitude. She did not need to speak, and nor did I, for we both knew what the other was thinking. Relieved that the agony was almost over. Terrified for what was about to come. But most importantly grateful that we would not experience the next part alone. Our eyes interlocked, tears still streaming down our faces as we embraced our horrific, but inevitable ending.