I was stuck.
If ever there was room between a rock and a hard place that was where I was. If a catch-22 existed, I embodied the concept. If but one man had experienced a no-win situation, I was that man. How could a win-win so quickly become a lose-lose? Allow me to recount the tale and perhaps you can answer for me.
I got on and she began speaking to me immediately.
“Is this your seat?” she asked, bright blue-green eyes sparkling in the dimly lit airplane cabin.
She was obviously talking to me. There were 3 people in between us, she in her seat and I in the aisle, but she was obviously talking to me. Her eyes were locked into mine and her tone was pointed at my soul.
I froze. I was a nervous high school nerd who had just been approached by the Homecoming Queen. My honest nature took over and I checked my ticket stub before responding. If I were cooler I would have just sat down. But I was a dork, so I checked my ticket.
“6B” I said aloud.
“That’s right here!” she celebrated, indicating the seat next to her. “Here, let me help.”
She unbuckled her seatbelt and helped the little girl in the aisle to put her small carry-on bag under the seat in front of her, clearing the way for me to take my place. I stuffed my black duffel bag in the overhead compartment and squeezed into the seat that had been too small for me since the year after I finished my first graduate degree and began to make a respectable salary.
She seemed to enjoy my extra pounds, though, and she settled in comfortably next to me. She was not shy about infringing upon the personal space to which each airplane passenger feels entitled. I had nearly grown accustomed to my hopes being dashed upon realizing that I would not be alone in my row on the plane, and that the bubble establishing my personal comfort zone was in fact mythical. She was just the opposite, though. She entered my bubble willingly, purposely, purposefully. She wanted to be in my space, and that set me at unease.
I was not lacking in self-confidence, but that moment made me wonder what was wrong with her. Why was she all up on me like that? Didn’t she have a sense of personal pride? It made me want to scream!
Move over, woman!
But I held my cool.
“Is Atlanta your final destination?” she asked, perfect white teeth matching her perfect white skin and perfectly bright eyes.
“No, I’m headed to LA,” I said, squelching my discomfort and allowing only pleasant tones to enter my vocal response. “Where are you headed?”
“Minneapolis,” she said, still smiling. I had to look away because she would not break her gaze.
“Oh, is that where you’re from?” I asked, pretending to need something from my laptop bag.
“Yup. What’s taking you to LA?”
“Television,” I said, a little less reluctant than I should have been, considering the crazy broad I was sitting next to.
To be honest, I was excited about my trip to Los Angeles. I had an important meeting to look forward to. I could feel myself drawing closer to accomplishing my lifelong dream of becoming a reputable writer for television and the big screen. I couldn’t help it if my excitement spilled over and erupted from my mouth like so many active volcanoes.
“Oh, that’s awesome!” she said. Her enthusiasm sounded genuine. I found this even more off-putting. What did she care? I raised my guard a level higher.
She waited. I figured it was my turn to feign interest as to the reason for her trip.
“Why are you headed to Minneapolis?” I asked after a long pause.
“One of my closest friends is getting married,” she said. “That’s where I’m from. So excited! So much fun!”
“Yeah, that sounds great,” I said, again choosing to prevent my true feelings from creeping into my voice. She had no idea how little I cared about her friend’s wedding.
“So television, huh? What do you do?”
“I write and I produce,” I said.
“Good afternoon, passengers, welcome to Delta flight 1784 to Atlanta, Georgia.” the flight attendant broke into our conversation.
“Oh wow, that sounds like a lot of fun!” she continued. One would think she would have been deterred by the fact that the flight attendant was going through her safety standards speech, but this girl was undaunted by such a minor detail.
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Got a big meeting with some producers tomorrow,” I said, still talking over the flight attendant.
“So what’s the show?” She leaned into me intently, pressing her ample breasts even further into my right forearm.
She needs a mint, I thought.
“I can’t tell you,” I said. “I don’t have a non-disclosure agreement to give you.”
“Oh I see,” she said, laughing. “If you tell me you have to kill me?”
“Haha, not exactly. But if I see my idea on TV made by someone else then maybe I will come and kill you.”
Her eyes twinkled again when I said that.
I reached into my pocket and produced the small container of mints I almost always carried with me. I popped one into my mouth and pretended to begin putting the container back into my pocket. I pretended to realize something before my hand made it all the way to my pocket, and then I proffered the case.
“Mint?” I asked.
“Oh God, yes, I really need one. I don’t have any gum or anything.” She cheerfully took a mint and I exhaled for the first time in at least 40 seconds.
“Our flight time from takeoff to touchdown will be 26 minutes,” the flight attendant continued.
“Wow, I don’t remember this flight being that short,” I ejaculated.
“Yeah, me neither. I take this flight all the time. I thought it was an hour.”
In retrospect, I’m glad the flight was that short. She talked for the entire 26 minute flight, and I’m certain that if there flight were an hour and 26 minutes she would have had no problem finding material for that entire flight either.
She was quite lovely to behold, though. Once her breath was no longer distracting me, I could focus on her features. She had silky brown hair and small hands. Her short jean skirt revealed legs that were shapely and tanned. She did not have the face of a supermodel, but she did this cute thing with her mouth when she talked, almost like she wanted to talk out of the side of her face. Her smile was enchanting, a fact more than slightly aided by her clear, beautiful eyes. She was also quite friendly and not as stupid as I assumed she would have to be when she started talking to me from across the plane. I couldn’t get serious about a White girl, but that wasn’t what she was after anyway.
As we descended into Atlanta, the subject of our conversation changed from my television exploits and her new job in the Internet Marketing department of some company or other to her plans for her layover.
“I get stuck in Atlanta a lot,” she began, playfully brushing her hair out of her eyes and looking away sheepishly.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I let them bump me from flights if the flight is overbooked. They usually give me a pretty nice hotel room, too. Food vouchers and everything.”
“Oh yeah?”
Hey eyes found mine again.
“I think my flight is overbooked today. What is it, Friday?”
“Yup.”
“Yeah, it’s probably overbooked. I think I’ll let them bump me. I could stay in Atlanta overnight in a nice hotel room. It would be good to relax.”
“Yeah, I can imagine,” I said, committing to nothing.
“Do you like sushi?” she asked, trying a different path to what would undoubtedly lead to the same destination.
“Yeah, I love sushi!” I said, too excited again.
“Cause there was this great place I went to last time I was here. I can’t remember the name of it, though. Do you come through Atlanta a lot?”
“Yeah, I do. I don’t eat airport sushi, though. I don’t trust it.”
“Oh trust me, this place is really good.”
The flight attendant interrupted us again.
“Ladies and gentlemen, at this time could you please turn off all electronic devices as we descend into Atlanta? Please return all seat backs and tray tables to their proper upright and locked positions… blah blah blah…”
Neither the newly employed recently graduated suburban White girl from the right side of the tracks next to me nor the perpetually single nerdy Black prospective television producer next to her had produced any electronic devices during the entire 26 minute flight. She was too busy staring into my eyes and trying to bewitch me, and I was too busy trying to be polite and trying to avoid her bewitching. I could feel my resolve weakening, though, as we descended into Atlanta.
“Oh my God, they have this Philadelphia roll there…”
“I love the Philly roll!” I exclaimed.
“Right? With the cream cheese and the salmon?”
“Yeah, it’s my favorite.”
“Ok, now you have to let me take you there.”
“Yeah? Have to, huh?”
“Absolutely. Come on, break your airport sushi cherry,” she said.
“But my connection…”
“You said you have a 2-hour layover,” she said.
“Right, but yours is only…”
“I’m not taking that flight, remember? I’m gonna let them bump me. Free night in a hotel!”
“Right, the hotel,” I said.
So we got sushi. It wasn’t the best sushi I’d ever had, but it was pretty good. My stomach didn’t start hurting immediately, so that’s always a good sign. The check came, she insisted on paying, and I excused myself to the restroom. I didn’t have to go, but I wanted to give her an opportunity to retreat into the night if all she wanted was some company while she ate.
When I came out of the bathroom, though, she was standing right there.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Yeah, I gotta catch this flight.”
“No, silly. Are you ready for what’s next?” she leaned further into me than she had at any point previous during the evening.
She needs another mint, I thought, catching a hint of the raw salmon she had just eaten.
“What is next?” I asked.
“You know. Free hotel. Come on.” She started walking toward the tram that connects the various airport concourses while holding her hand out behind her.
I didn’t know what to feel. I didn’t know what to do. She turned again when I didn’t move.
“Ya comin’?” she asked, light from her bright white teeth reflecting off her bright white skin.
What would you do?
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