10- Love at 32,000 Feet
Adrianna loves the idea of writing a serialized story composed of flash fiction segments. In fact, she is even thinking about giving it a go herself, as she has already received another couple of rejections for her manuscript in the last week alone. Simon thinks it has potential, and Brenda wants to me to read the last installment aloud.
“Sure,” I say, suddenly buoyed up by their interest. I clear my throat and begin.
“As I fastened my seatbelt, I glanced around me to see who my seatmates were. I’ve always enjoyed talking to people on airplanes, I don’t know why. Maybe it has something to do with being confined in a small space for a great deal of time with nothing much to do. In any event, flying seems to make for some pretty hearty confidences.
This flight looked to be the exception. My seatmates were terribly disappointing. The woman on my left was plugged into her iPod, while the businessman on my right was wrapped up in the Wall Street Journal. Oh well, out with my notebook. Looks like I’d be doing some writing instead.
Writing has always been therapeutic for me, especially since my cancer diagnosis, but if truth be told I have far greater aspirations than simply keeping a journal. I’ve already sold a handful of stories to magazines, and my dream is to one day make a living from freelance writing alone.
Anyway, there I was scribbling away, when we hit a bit of what they like to call turbulence. Immediately my feet hit the floor, and my hands reached for the armrests, but wouldn’t you know it, the businessman’s hand got there first, and what I ended up clutching was his hand instead.
There was a bit of an awkward moment, as I slowly unpeeled my fingers from his. It turned out to be quite the ice breaker though, and before too long, there we were laughing and chatting away like old friends, his Wall Street Journal neatly folded up and tucked in the seat pocket in front of him for what proved to be the remainder of the flight. Though the plane continued to bounce around from time to time and make some fairly ominous noises, I was as relaxed as I’ve ever been on a plane.
He did hold my hand a bit “longer than necessary” on parting, as they say in novels, and my heart did do a little lurch as he slipped his business card into my hand and murmured something about calling him. But I never did. Because there at 32,000 feet, I had finally realized that my true love in life was my writing, and what this handsome stranger had given me was simply this– the main character for my next story.”
When I finish, I wait anxiously for their feedback. “Good beginning,” is the general consensus.” Good beginning? Good grief. I thought I was done. Oh well, back to the drawing board.
