Chapter 15. Turbulence.
There it is.
The airport.
Park the car. Drop the keys in the box. Straight to the business lounge.
VIPs move fast. No queues. No wrestling heavy suitcases onto conveyor belts. No worrying whether they’ll be overweight. Security barely glances at you. Only passport control still takes its job seriously: a hard look in your face, a dull thump of the stamp, and a polite:
“Have a pleasant flight.”
After that…
it’s another world.
“Chivas. On the rocks, please.”
“Certainly.”
“And bring me the Cordon Bleu cheese. And some bread.”
“Sparkling water with lemon?”
“No.”
She walked away.
Even shrugged.
Probably took me for an idiot.
Damn…
I hate flying.
Not Boeings.
Not Airbuses.
Flying.
Every time I know I’m about to board a plane, I pack my bag and feel the jitters creeping in. Yes, I know it’s the safest way to travel. Yes, I know the physics. I know exactly why those enormous machines stay in the air.
Still…
I hate flying.
Ask me why.
I’m supposed to be brave.
A former soldier.
A veteran.
Hm.
Veterans get scared too.
Because…
it’s scary.
⸻
“Your whisky, sir. The cheese and bread.”
“Thank you.”
A sip.
Warm fire slides down my throat.
A breath.
That stinking cheese.
Another breath.
Sharp blue mold… a faint smoky note…
Now the bread.
Slightly sour.
Fresh yeast.
The smells weave themselves together until my head grows pleasantly light.
Only for a moment.
Pre-flight adrenaline won’t let go completely.
All it leaves behind…
is the taste.
And the fear.
“Another coffee.
Strong.
A big one.”
“Of course.”
She shrugged again.
Everything lines up.
The whisky burns my lips against the melting ice.
Cheese.
Mold.
Bread.
Now coffee.
Perfect.
Boarding.
Good when there aren’t any delays.
…
I wonder…
Is it like this before you die?
When they’re taking a condemned man to his execution, everything has already been decided. The sooner it’s over, the better. No point hoping for a pardon.
Waiting only feeds the fear.
⸻
Fresh air from the runway.
Jet engines.
Damn…
That’s a big one.
Good.
Shouldn’t shake as much.
Then again, First Class isn’t too bad anyway.
Quiet.
Food.
A movie.
Assuming we don’t get tossed around.
There’s my seat.
Almost a private room.
I sit down.
Change my shoes.
Fasten my belt.
Right.
Let’s fly.
Except we’re still waiting for people.
Fine.
I’ll start a movie…
“A double Scotch, please.”
“With ice?”
“No.”
“Certainly.”
What are we waiting for?
Close the doors.
Push back.
Take off.
Instead we’re crawling like turtles.
“Your Scotch.”
“Thanks.”
A sip.
Warmth.
The aroma.
I close my eyes.
Maybe I’ll fall asleep…
No.
Maybe this fear is because of my sins.
Maybe I should ask forgiveness.
From whom?
For what?
⸻
Here we go.
Rolling.
The wheels hammer over every joint in the concrete.
Swaying.
Runway.
Turn.
Line up.
Everything tightens.
The turbines scream.
Go!
The bumps come faster.
Faster.
Faster.
Whoa!
Liftoff.
Come on…
Come on…
Bank left.
A sudden drop.
It’s okay.
No…
Who am I kidding?
It’s terrifying.
Another turn.
Now climbing.
The engines howl as we disappear into the clouds.
There’s the first little…
Ah!
A jolt.
Funny.
The concrete shook us harder.
Except…
there’s no concrete anymore.
Just air.
And we’re already doing five hundred kilometers an hour.
Oh.
Finally.
The cabin crew drew the curtains.
We’re up.
One more sip.
Movie.
Something familiar.
Something that doesn’t make me think.
Look out the window once in a while.
Who did I hurt?
Mom?
She did smack me pretty hard with that bream.
Although…
What else could she have done?
“Well done.
Great shot.
You killed him beautifully.”
Hm.
Maybe that was the only way she knew how to protect me.
Hell if I know.
Funny thing…
I never blamed my father for what happened in the subway.
I understood him.
Maybe because he’d already been dead for years.
When someone’s gone…
holding on to anger feels pointless.
Whoa!
That was a drop.
Damn.
Another cloud?
Again?
FASTEN SEAT BELTS
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are entering an area of turbulence. Please remain seated until the captain switches off the seat belt sign.”
How long?
That’s the worst part.
Not the shaking.
The waiting.
Not knowing how long it’ll last.
Not knowing whether the next second brings another invisible hole…
or another bump.
Look at this monster.
One good hit…
and what if a wing snaps off?
The cabin crew opened the curtains again.
Now they’re buckled in too.
Looks serious.
What are you doing up there, boys?
Need a hand flying this thing?
Funny…
When I drive mountain roads, the girls scream too.
They’re scared.
But they’re laughing.
Because they trust me.
Maybe that’s what I need.
Trust.
Let go.
The pilots.
The turbulence.
My mother…
and that bream over the pigeon.
My old coach…
Whoa!
Down and right.
Lightning.
Thunder.
Left.
Up.
The air slams into the wings.
My palms are wet.
A sip.
We’re really getting thrown around now.
Damn.
Even the glass is dancing.
Might as well finish it.
Ah…
God…
This is frightening.
And yet…
Coach did say something worth remembering.
“You have to let resentment go…
the way you release a bird.”
But I shot it.
Right in front of him.
For no reason at all.
Just to hit something.
And then…
I…
Damn…
He promised he’d stop me.
Promised he’d stay beside me.
That mirror in the bar…
That voice the morning after the night with the hostess…
If we land…
I’ll go to church.
Light a candle for the repose of his soul.
And another for everyone’s health.
Just let us land.
Whoa…
Another drop.
Now we’re bouncing again.
And I’ll call my mother.
Tell her to stop worrying about the pigeon…
and the slap.
Let it all go.
Everyone.
Like birds flying free from the cage where I’ve kept my grudges.
Coach was right.
…
“You have no idea how right.”
…
A calm voice.
Familiar.
Impossible to mistake.
I turned.
A flight attendant stood beside me.
The aircraft shuddered around us, but he stood there as calmly as a waiter beside a table, a folded napkin resting across his arm.
“What?”
“You have no idea how right I am.”
“You…?
No…
It can’t be…”
He raised a finger to his lips.
“Shhh…
I know.
May I sit down?”