Those flights, I hate those flights, the long intercontinental flights, the smell that lingers in the air, the restless children behind you, the god awful in-flight entertainment movies. I guess I should explain why I’m on this flight, shouldn’t I?
Let me take you back around two days, I’ll tell you how I got onto this trip.
It had been four happy years on this day; Emma and I had been together for that long. It was an amazing time to be around her, but clearly she didn’t seem the same way. It was at the dinner I had so carefully planned she broke the news to me. That niggling problem that had been going through my mind for the latter part of the four years. Would she ever get bored? Give me a second, these kids have been kicking me for the last 4 hours, it’s starting to bother me. Okay, where were we? Ah, yes, the problems. She did get bored, she got bored a lot apparently, bored with multiple partners. Well, if you can’t see what I mean there, there’s not much hope for you. The lights on the table were flickering in the wind, her face was slowly fading into the dark of the room, I felt as if I was sinking slowly into quicksand, a tidal wave overcoming me and drowning out the sound of Emma. When I finally came back into reality, she wasn’t there, I’d fallen asleep or fainted, I didn’t know. There was a note there, “I love you, but we both know it’s over now…” I knew it was over when she first uttered the words “I’m bored, Jude. I’m really bored.”
Sitting here now, it feels all petty and irrelevant, but then again, I’m on this goddamn flight with these kids niggling the back of my head. Anyway, after she’d left, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Kind of how I feel when someone sits down beside me in an airplane. At least I’m sitting alone now, for once.
I’d never run him over, though; I wouldn’t want to dent my car.
I’d never rip your throat out, because that’d leave you with a nasty scar.
I’m flying out to get drunk with my friends. Try to get myself out of this funk
I’d never screw my life up, because of how sick she was.
Amazingly enough, I haven’t got drunk yet, it was never my plan, my friends urged me to go see New York for once in my life. Emma never wanted to go on planes, I guess they kind of reminded her of our relationship. A bad smell surround it, little kids or problems, depends which way you see them, niggling on the back of your head, the entertainment wasn’t anything to write home about. But still there’s love involved in travelling in these huge hulking monstrosities. I guess it pretty much sums up my relationship. I’m probably boring you to death, aren’t I? I’m not? Fine, I’ll tell you what I did after the fateful meeting between Emma and I.
Have you ever tried to kill yourself? Either have I, I just thought I’d change the subject. Well, I did something I shouldn’t have, I did drink, I didn’t get drunk. It must be like drinking up here alone, I cannot feel any pain. Hey! The kids stopped, the smell is better, more rosy. More, happy. As bad as it sounds, this flight, these nine hours, talking to you, comparing the aircraft to my relationship, seeing the signs in everything around me, it helps. It helps a lot. Thank you. Thank you so much. What’s your name?
“Charlie” said the man.
Well thank you, Charlie. I wouldn’t know how to thank you.
“Want to hear my story?” answered Charlie with a gleeful smile.
Why not I thought, it might back a good story in Creative Writing.
