The Mystery of Flight 2222

by Thomas Neviaser

  ~~ ~~ ~~

  Helen was pulling her poorly weighted carry-on, fighting its determination to flip against the sides of the aisle seats. She had to lift it upright multiple times to continue at a reasonable pace down the narrow aisle not far from where the man she’d seen earlier sat. Her luggage bumped into some hippy’s elbow, and he reacted as a child would and flipped it back, almost bouncing it off the passenger across from him. Several other passengers helped set the bag upright, and she was grateful to them for their assistance. She finally arrived at her appointed destination, 24B, next to 24A, the seat belonging to the harried man she’d encountered before.

  She watched with a thankful sigh while he rose quickly and lifted her bag up into the bin without asking and made a motion inviting her to take the window seat if she desired. She declined, and he slid back into his seat.

  Helen sat, placed her purse under the seat, glanced at the man, and said, “Thank you. It’s been quite a trip already.”

  “Yes, it has, hasn’t it. Hopefully more serene after take-off, eh?” he remarked, straightening his tie and pulling down on his sleeve.

  “Yeah, sure, more serene. That would be welcomed, for sure,” Helen said.

  ~~ ~~ ~~

  Several minutes passed. Frank sensed a fearful attitude in the woman with whom he would have the pleasure or displeasure of being paired for the duration of the overnight flight. She probably hadn’t been on an airplane much in her life. He would strike up a conversation with her later. Right now, it was best to let her relax and get her bearings. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a ‘white knuckler’ next to him. He understood their fears, but if

  the truth be told, they had very little to worry about. Horror stories always have a way of becoming the norm, but statistics proved the opposite.

  When the final trickling of the late passengers ended, the entry doors closed. Some people were still moving about collecting their items from their carry-ons and closing the bins. An announcement over the intercom system told everyone to be seated, fasten their seat belts, stow their seat tables in an upright and locked position, and watch the brief video regarding the safety elements of the Airbus 330.

  The audio droned on past Frank’s ears but was the center of intense attention for the woman beside him. She watched the video intently, almost absorbing every word as her eyes darted back and forth scrutinizing the motions of the actors, especially when the seat belt and water emergency instructions were presented. What was amusing to Frank was the seats in which the actors were seated. They were nothing like the ones they had been assigned to. The video showed spacious distances between the ‘passengers’ yet, in reality, that was certainly not the case. Economy seating was not roomy, for sure.

  A shoehorn should be in the pocket along with the white vomit bag.

  The video monitors then returned to their nooks in the ceiling. Frank tried relaxing in the upright position, but he saw his female companion was still on the edge of her seat, fumbling with her seat belt. He calmly reached over and found the longer of the two straps and unraveled it so she could then click it into the buckle in her right hand. She pulled gently on the belt, wiggled a bit to be sure she could breathe, and then appeared to try to seem relaxed, but she really wasn’t at all. She nodded to Frank in thanks, not saying a word.

  Another broadcast from the senior flight attendant was heard, outlining the food and beverage deliveries throughout the flight. The movie was announced. Frank had already seen it twice on other international flights, but the woman became alive, reaching for her purse to find some dollars for the headset. It was way too early for the payment, but Frank didn’t mention it as the attendants came by one last time, checking the seats and making sure all passengers had their belts fastened.

  “Attendants, please prepare for take-off.”

  Frank felt the woman stiffen a bit in her seat. Again, he said or did nothing to console his neighbor.

  The usual silence in the cabin occurred with this statement.

  ~~ ~~ ~~

  The 330 taxied onto the runway and made its way behind a jumbo 747. It was seventh in line to take off. Inside the cockpit, Captains Swanson, first officer Crenshaw, and second officer Hodges were performing their final check and recheck of all systems. Everything was right for take-off. The giant engines then raised their decibel levels to a high roaring pitch as the 330 increased speed down the runway to enter the evening sky. The last irregular clatter of the plane against the tarmac disappeared, the whirring of the landing gears entering their compartments with a clunk was heard, and a residual thrumming underneath finally stopped, allowing no more evidence of take-off but a calming hum, the only sound remaining in the cabin.

  ~~ ~~ ~~

  Frank glanced over at the woman without moving his head. Her eyes were wide open during take-off but became normal as the steady sound of flight began. It was obvious to him that she would react to every out-of-the-ordinary noise while the aircraft rose into the sky and gradually leveled off. Frank watched the lights of the city become smaller and disappear into darkness. He had seen this phenomenon many times, but it always mesmerized him to the point that he never missed it on any flight at night. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. An image of Kate turning to her left and wiggling her butt on their porch appeared in his mind. Her forced smile when he left always had him feeling guilty, but he reminded himself of his position and what he had to do for the firm. If it were his choice, he would send someone else, but he could only wait until the day when he could choose a person such as himself.

  He then turned and looked intently at his surroundings. It was a routine game of his, picking certain passengers and trying to guess who they were. Were they listening to the instructions? Did they really know where the oxygen mask was? How old were they? What did they do for a living? Did they have family? What were their likes and dislikes? He never found out the real answers, but selecting a number of people and going through the machinations of figuring out all he could think of passed the time until he could fall asleep, a task he always found daunting. One of them was that inconsiderate hippy dude. Frank knew he was a loner and trouble in someone’s life. He was glad not to have to deal with that moron.

  Chapter Four

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We have now leveled off at thirty-seven thousand feet. Our flight time to Buenos Aires will be ten hours and thirty-six minutes. The weather seems to be very nice for the first part of the trip, but after passing the equator, we may have some turbulence. This is not unusual on this run. We will keep you informed of our progress as we get nearer to our destination. Now, please sit back and enjoy your meals and entertainment. Thank you for flying Air USA.”

  The woman beside Frank hung on every word. He noted her reaction and smiled at her.

  “A heck of a mouthful, eh?” Frank said.

  “Yeah, it’s hard to believe we are five miles above the earth,” she said and leaned over to look out the window. “It’s almost dark. Those clouds over the water are beautiful.”

  Actually, six-point-nine miles. And we are still breathing,” Frank jested.

  “Whatever. We’re really way up here, aren’t we?”

  “Yes. You know there is a group of people who believe that planes are not able to fly whatsoever?”

  “Really? How’s that?”

  “Well, they think there’s a movie being shown on a screen outside each window, giving the impression that one is flying, and somehow the plane is being juggled around and noises made to convince the passengers they are flying,” Frank replied.

  “You’re kidding me, right? What do they think when they are in another city when they land?”

  “I guess they haven’t figured that out yet.” He laughed.

  She let out a laugh, too, and seemed to be more relaxed in her seat. Frank ended the conversation and pulled out his newspaper. To be sure she was okay, he glanced over at her as she turned toward him.

  “Thanks,” she said.
r />   He nodded and returned to his paper.

  The attendants started the beverage run. The soft sound of passengers talking among themselves was comforting and soothing as the woman ordered a ginger ale. Frank ordered a Diet Coke without ice. No sooner did they get the cups to their lips did a commotion begin with the hippy guy a few rows up, complaining about his mixed drink being watered down. Several attendants were necessary to quiet him. Everyone around this section shook their head in disgust. To shut him up, he was given an extra miniature bottle of vodka.

  “There are so many of these idiots around,” Frank said.

  “Well, he probably has had a miserable life,” the woman replied.

  “No reason for him to make everyone else miserable, you know.”

  “He doesn’t even know he is.” She sighed.

  The wisdom and ease with which she’d said that struck Frank as strange. He suddenly wanted to know more about her. She obviously wasn’t a time-tested passenger.

  “So, what brings you to Argentina?” he asked.

  “A family matter.”

  “Yeah, you got family there?”

  “So to speak. A death in the family,” she said.

  “Sorry to hear that. I’m Frank. You?”

  “Oh, Helen. Helen Hampton,” she said, turning toward him.

  “Hampton doesn’t sound Argentinian.”

  Helen obviously waited for him to continue on. Frank was speechless for a second or two, expecting her to speak.

  “Uh, Mason, Frank Mason,” he said, somewhat embarrassed that he didn’t tell her his last name right away.

  “Doesn’t sound Spanish, either.” Helen giggled.

  They both laughed, and each took a sip from their cups.

  “Excuse my prying, but I can see you are a bit nervous on a plane,” Frank said.

  “That would be an understatement. I haven’t flown a lot, but I have flown, and it’s always tough for me,” she answered.

  “Well, let me give you a few facts to allay your fears. First, flying is actually the safest mode of transportation. In fact, the odds of a plane crash are one for every one-point-two million flights, with odds of dying one in eleven million. Your chances of dying in a car or traffic accident are one in five thousand. Did you know a plane is safer than a train?”

  “My, my, you do know something about planes.”

  “Well, then, you may want to know some other trivia. Some people think all the passengers are sucked out of an airplane by a through-and-through hole occurring, like a gunshot or something. They think the hole gets larger and larger, but that’s not so. A small hole doesn’t become larger. A big hole doesn’t get bigger, either. If the hole was big enough, only the people right next to the hole would be sucked out if they weren’t wearing seat belts or decided to look out to see what was going on,” Frank said with a laugh.

  Helen giggled, too, and said, “Wow, I didn’t know that.”

  “Here’s another. Did you know that the pilot and copilot have at least one hundred checks to go through before getting it off the ground?”

  “I guess that’s why they get the big bucks.” Helen rubbed her thumb over her fingers.

  “You’ve seen the movies when the cockpit goes bonkers when all sorts of buzzers and alarms go off and there’s chaos? Not true. Just a light and a mechanical voice occurs on most aircraft to let the pilots know to be alert. There’s no buzzer or light that screams ‘Mountain!’”

  “Not a button for an alarm for ‘Goose’ either, I guess.”

  “Yep, no honk, honk ‘Goose’ alarms, either.”

  “Darn,” she said.

  “Movies create impossible crashes just to scare people, and now people think they occur all the time. Truthfully, most accidents occur at take-off or landing, and they aren’t that exciting when visualized. Now, I’m sure the people inside have visions of some movie they saw, but that’s not usually the case.”

  “Hum, informative, aren’t we?” Helen said.

  “Did you know some people think the oxygen in the masks makes you euphoric so you don’t care what’s going on? Stupid people only, that is. And some think the crash position is only a conspiracy to keep your teeth from injury so they can identify you later.”

  “Okay, now you’re getting ridiculous.” Helen sat up and stared at him with a smile.

  “But you are more relaxed now, aren’t you. All of this nonsense has taken your mind off the plane ride.”

  “You are one sneaky passenger. Have you done this before?” Helen asked.

  “Not often, only to help people out of their fears, I guess.”

  “Well, you done did a good job. Thanks.”

  “On another subject, I have a game I play on these long trips. It helps spend the time and challenge your thinking powers. Want to play along?”

  “Another bunch of plane trivia?

  “Nope.”

  “What’s that, then?” she asked.

  “I pick out seven people and try to figure how old they are, what nationality they are, what kind of job they have, what their names are and whether they are married or not, kids, personality traits, and anything else I can think of.”

  “Why seven?” Helen asked.

  “Gosh, I have no idea. It has always been seven, I guess. No reason really.”

  “Okay, begin with jerko over there.” She laughed, pointing at the scraggly hippy.

  “Well, he is definitely single,” Frank blurted, almost spitting out his drink.

  Helen leaned forward in convulsive laughter, spilling her drink on her dress. Still chuckling, she wiped her skirt with her napkin. “Duh!” she finally whispered. “Don’t do that again. That was really funny.”

  “Hey, it’s got to be true, right?”

  “Yup. What else?” she asked, becoming more excited about the game. “Of course, there could have been another flower child who was stupid enough to marry this whacko, and it probably lasted two or three weeks.”

  “Now you’re getting into the game. He’s probably part Greek and part Irish. He has to be a busboy somewhere. He can’t have the smarts to be anything but.” After placing his thumb and index finger on his chin, Frank said, “Ah, let’s see. His name is…Homer.”

  “No way! He’s a Herbert. That’s why he is so angry. He’s had that hanging over him all his life. So, he’s miserable. I think he’s a student. Probably got all C’s in his junior year. Community college, though, works part time as a computer programmer. The other part is spent teeing people off,” she said.

  “Really? He has a brain? Come on! Let’s get real. Oh, we’re really close on this one.” Frank raised his eyebrows. “This idiot has to be doing some cubicle job where he relates to no one but himself. He probably never communicates with real people in his job. His inner self is the center of his world. A hamburger flipper named Homer, not Herbert.”

  “Well, I have to agree with you there. I’d like to smack him upside the head and straighten him out. Who’s next?” Helen asked, sitting up higher to choose someone.

  Her remark was somewhat surprising to Frank. He didn’t think she was so adamant about this jerk’s actions, but it was obvious she was much more turned off by them than he was, and he was really disgusted by him.

  I sense a bit of anger, possibly vindictiveness here, little lady.

  “How about that gentleman with the coat and tie on, handkerchief in his coat pocket?” Frank suggested.

  “Oh, that’s too easy,” she said confidently.

  “Excuse me, what would you like for dinner? We are serving beef or chicken,” an attendant interrupted. She was a redhead with a short haircut, slender to the point of being skinny, but with a pleasant smile and manner about her. Her uniform outlined her shapely body nicely.

  Frank noticed the name, Kimberly, on her brass tag pinned to her blue and white Air USA blouse.

  “Helen?” Frank offered her the first response.

  “Chicken, please.”

  “I’ll have the beef. Thank
s, Kimberly.”

  The attendant raised her eyes to meet his and smiled, wrote the order down, repeating, “24A, beef, and 24B, chicken,” and moved on.

  They couldn’t agree what their new target’s background was. Helen guessed the man was a CEO of a large corporation, probably steel or oil. He was definitely Jewish, not married, possibly a widower, no children, and somewhere between fifty and fifty-five in age. Frank offered Mosha as his name. Helen vehemently disagreed, naming him Irving.

  “Ugh! How bad can you be? Irving? Why not Julius or Shalom?”

  “So what’s his real background, smarty?” Helen jokingly asked.

  “Okay, he was, uh, let’s see, uh, one of those Special Forces guys when younger. You know, in the Israeli army. Tough as nails. Not sure he has a family. There, that good enough?”

  “Oh my God, you really are into this silly game of yours.” Helen giggled and smirked at Frank. “No way, Frank. Special Forces? Where did you pull that one from? He’s too skinny and frail to have been in such an elite outfit, but he looks wiry enough to have been one a while back, I guess.”

  Once again, Helen impressed Frank with her intuition.

  Chapter Five