Daily Flash Fiction Challenge

I am sitting in a window seat in First Class. The flight has been mostly uneventful; my favorite kind of airplane experience. We have three more hours in the air. I am a white-knuckled flyer, even though I was married to a United Airlines pilot for many years. If I think about it, I may be frightened to fly because he was a commercial pilot. He had more scary stories about pilots that flew drunk, the captain that had a grand mal seizure on final approach, the flight attendant that said Jesus wanted her to open the doors, and on and on.

My solution for not going insane from fear is to drink while flying. I know that sounds like an unhealthy solution, but it has always worked for me. Whatever alcohol they have in those little bottles is fine with me. I’m not fussy. I usually keep enough small bills to keep the medication coming. Since we have suddenly hit a large patch of turbulence, I am thrilled to be in First Class where the drinks are complimentary.

I hear a huge, percussive noise coming from the cockpit.

The flight attendant makes an announcement, “A large bird has hit the windshield, but it was more sound than fury, so you can relax.” The Faulkner reference will be lost on many of the passengers, but they will get the gist of her announcement.

At this altitude, it does seem strange that a bird would hit the windshield, and that it would sound like an explosion. My knuckles go white as I squeeze the armrests and wait for whatever is next.

I turn on my light and make what might be my final request. “Five little bottles of vodka please, stat.”

My medication can’t come soon enough.