Omagod, omagod, omagodÖ!  Breath in, breath outÖBreath in, Breath outÖI CAN do thisÖ
 
    Dwayne held his breath thought he told himself to breathe.  Why was there a great big, huge gap between the platform and the main entrance!?  It seemed like it was getting bigger.  No it wasnít.  Yes it was.  No it wasnít.
 
    Shut up!  Step forward!  Everyoneís waiting!

    Dwayne hadnít stopped holding his breath yet. . . and he had begun to notice that it wasnít too comfortable holding it for such a period of time.  He quickly stepped forward and finally took a breath, allowing his body to be replenished with the needed oxygen.   Crammed between two other passengers, he was forced to inch along in the line.  He feverishly fumbled with his tickets to find his seat.  The strap of his bag was chaffing his neck and shoulder; he tried not to think about it though it became aggravating.
 
    Just find the seatÖJust find the seatÖ

He scrambled to get his oversized bag into the undersized luggage storage bin.  He could hear the impatient sighs of the passengers backed up, waiting behind him.  He sheepishly grinned at them and with all his body strength, which was not much at this point, tried to ram his bag into the bin.  He thought he heard something crack; by now, he didnít give a damn.  He hurriedly scanned the rows.

    33, 34, 35Ö36AÖOh, where is it!? There, finallyÖOh no, not the window seatÖ!

    He shuffled to find it in the vicinity; Dwayne sighed and tried to ease into his seat.

    "OW!"

    He sat on the sharp edge of his seat belt; startled, he jumped and almost hit his head on the low ceiling.   He turned red and looked around; nobody had noticed.  He sat back down and fumbled with the belt.  He looked cautiously out the window.  He saw small figures in big trucks carting luggage around.  He sat back, and tried to relax.

    Dwayne Wattserly wore a white pressed shirt, at least it looked spiffy in the morning; by now it had aged with wrinkles and the odd stains accumulated from his day of travels.  His teeth had seen their full share of braces during childhood, and were the only absolutely perfect thing about him.  His thick brown hair had been attended to in the morning, but by this hour was a bit ruffled and worn.  His face that was once cleanly shaved had carried the scent of his too strong after-shave; yet at the moment he was a bit scruffy.  His blue eyes were piercing, but now dull with fatigue.  His medium sized body by both height and weight fit very well into his enclosed seated area ­ a contradiction to the fact that he thought he was jammed in.

    He looked up and sawÖHER.  A head of long, velvet black hair with clear brown eyes and pouting lips.  The slender body draped in a flowing black dress, balanced a small bag in one hand and a battered book in the other.  He gasped, was SHE going to sit next to HIM?  Indeed, it appeared so.  She paused to glance at her ticket and then at the row of seats to find her own.  She slid into 36B and placed her miniature bag under the seat in front of her in one motion.  She sat back, buckled her seatbelt, turned her head to give a glance of recognition to Dwayne, and then settled down intent to read her book.

    Dwayne didnít know what was happening to him.  A flow of questions about her flooded his head. Who was she?  What was her name?  Where was she from?  Why was she here? How did she get here? He attempted to formulate them into comprehensible English ­ no luck.

    Speak to her, speak to her, say SOMETHING you idiotÖ

    He sighed and wondered how to get her attention without being rude.  Usually the case was that he would let too much time go by and miss the chance to talk to someone new; he was determined this would not happen now.  He racked his brain.

    Just a simple "Hello!" will be suitable, geniusÖ

    He nodded to himself.  He turned toward her and jutted his hand forward, intent to begin a greeting handshake, but by mistake knocked her book into the aisle.  She gave him a quizzical look and proceeded to calmly unbuckle her seat belt, retrieve the lost book, return to her seat, and find her page in the book.  It intrigued him that she had kept quiet.

    "UmmÖIím sorry!" He stuttered, knowing the apology was a bit late by timing.  She looked at him, again quizzically, gave a bit of a smile, and returned to her reading.  Dwayne weakly smiled but she didnít see.  "My nameís Dwayne Wattserly.  And you areÖ?" He attempted to start up a conversation again.

    "Gretchen," she bluntly replied; her eyes did not budge from the words in her book.

    "Thatís a nice nameÖ" Dwayne tried to think of something catchy to get her attention.  "Usually pertains to evil, in stories that is, so Iíve noticed, maybe Iím wrongÖ" He knew he should have kept his mouth shut as soon as the words left it.  She glanced at him through thick eyelashes.  He gave another weak smile and didnít know if he should have said sorry yet.  Gretchen rolled her eyes and sighedÖbut she felt she had an  obligation to actually talk to him, at least a little bit.

    "Oh reallyÖ?" he finally heard her disinterested voice.

    "Well, um, er, I didnít mean YOU were evil, I just, well, uh, IÖoh, never mindÖ" He gave up in trying to revive the dead conversation that had never really been allowed to live.

    Idiot, idiot, idiotÖget ready for silent, boring plane rideÖ

    He glanced over at her to see her give an ever so slight smileÖbut she kept her eyes in her book.  He felt something sharp in his pocket.  He rummaged through the pocket and found a small, plastic container.

    "Tic tacÖ?" He offered.

    "Are you hinting that my breath is badÖ?" she calmly implored.  She would have said a "No," right away, but decided to see what could make him squirm.

    "No..." Dwayne hesitantly answered her out-of-the-blue response.

    "Then why ask?"  She sighed, and regretted wanting to see how he could deal with unexpected occurrences. She just wanted to read her book.

    "Umm," he searched for an answer, "People usually like ëem."

    "Are you calling me abnormal?" she finally glanced up from her book.

    "NoÖ" he coughed.

    "Well, no thanks anyways," she ended the abrupt conversation.  She secretly smiled.  She was having fun playing with his mind.  She knew his type; she traveled alone a lot.

    The plane finally started.  The seatbelt sign flashed on and Dwayne felt the grumbles of the engine.  To him, the plane seemed to be slowly lurching forward to get to the runway.  To Gretchen and the other passengers, the plane was steadily moving.  He fiddled with a magazine and tried to rid the present moment from his head.  Gretchen noticed him tighten up.  The last thing she wanted was a paranoid freak beside her on a long plane trip.

    "First timeÖ?" she asked.

    "WhatÖ!?" he sputtered.

    "Sicko.  You know what I mean.  Is this your first time flying?" She looked out of the window at the surreal scenery.  It was probably bustling with activity outside the plane, but whatever noises were produced outside were silenced and were not heard by the passengers.  It was actually quite peaceful.  How could he be afraid? Everything was fine.

    "Heh, howíd you guess?" he tried to smile at her and hesitantly nodded, looking in her direction instead of out the window.

    "Iím used to it.  I know you guys," she lightly explained.

    "C-can I s-switch s-seats with y-you?" Dwayne stuttered.

    "Why?" she sighed.

    "I-I d-donít th-think I-I sh-should b-be n-near th-the w-window," he couldnít help the stuttering, but this time he tried to use it to emphasize the fact that he needed Gretchenís aisle seat.

    "No," she answered.  He was shocked.

    "W-why not?"

    "You need to learn," she said, bluntly ending their third small conversation.  Dwayne realized that she did not intend for there to be further discussion on the subject.  He turned and noticed that runway was no longer visible through the window

    "W-What happenedÖ?"  He was seeing clouds. Was he going utterly crazy?

    "We took off," she answered.

    "W-WE DID?"

    "Is it really that incomprehensibleÖ? Yes, WE DID take off.  We are in the plane is gliding through the air as we speak," she rolled her eyes.  Dwayne was an odd, odd man.

    "Oh." Dwayne sat back in his seat.  Gretchen was a curious, curious lady.

    "Coffee Miss? Sir?" the stewardess smiled leaning into the row with a pot of steaming coffee in each hand; one decaf, the other caffeinated.

    "Caffeinated, thanks," Gretchen murmured, still not looking up.

    "Ditto," Dwayne smiled, now fighting with the tray table.  Gretchen glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.

    "Decaf for himÖ" she suggested in a monotone voice.  The stewardess nodded and served them.

    "Why DecafÖ?" Dwayne flustered after the stewardess was out of sight.
 
    "You donít need any more caffeine,"  Gretchen advised.
 
"Oh."

    "You seem to have enough of something in your systemÖ" she lightly laughed.  There was soon silence as each of the two passengers took time out to sip their coffee.

    "HIC! HIC! HIC!"

    "Drink slowly, calm down," Gretchen commented with a sigh.

    "O-HIC!-K," Dwayne hiccuped.  He attempted to place his cup upon the tray table carefully; with each hiccup, the black liquid swayed nearer and nearer to the edge of its container.  "Th­HIC!-there," he satisfactorily sighed with its successful landing on the table.  Relieved, he sat back in his seat again, and decided to pull out his magazine.  He leaned forward and carefully grabbed it from the seat pocket in front of him.  His elbow taunted the coffee cup; Gretchen noticed.

    "Donít spill it," she warned. He glanced at her with an intended so-youíre-still-here? look, and nodded in comprehension.  He relaxed into his seat, his back slid down and his legs slid up.  His knees jolted the table, ruining the delicate balance of the cup.  Gretchen casually turned her head to see the coffee tip.

    "Um-" Too late.

    "AHHHH!!!!!!!" Dwayne shrieked as the steamy black liquid landed on his pants.

    "Warned you," she tried not to snicker at his contorted face

    "That was HOT!" he shrilled.

    "Itís coffee, itís supposed to be hotÖ"  she muttered.

    "Um, can you let me outÖ?" he squeaked.

    "Hmmm?" she disinterestedly looked up from her book.

    "Bathroom.  You know.  Bathroom?  Messed pants.  Bathroom?  They need cleaning.  Bathroom?  I must attempt to get these stains out before they set inÖ" he tried to make his point clear.

    "Looks like the poor widdle boy wet his pants." She taunted, shocking Dwayne with almost a full smile, and got up to let him through.

    "Címon," he urged; she was taking her sweet time.  She silently pointed down the aisle, indicating the direction of the restrooms.; she had a feeling that he was unfamiliar with the parts of the plane.  He shuffled hurriedly down the aisle.  He rammed into a crazy old man returning from the bathrooms.

    "Watch where youíre going, damn young fool!" he spat. Dwayne shrunk away and kept on towards his destination.

    Dwayne attempted to open a door and heard a yelp from inside. He noticed the ëoccupiedí sign.

    "SorryÖ!" Dwayne gasped.

    "You should be," someone hissed from inside.

    Are passengers on the plane always THIS friendlyÖ? SheeshÖ

    His eyes scanned the signs and finally found one reading ëvacantí. He fumed with the crooked sliding door and soon found himself in a small, enclosed space.  The light clicked on as he locked the door.  His elbow slammed against one of the walls.  He swore.  His shin hit one of the cabinets.  He cursed.  The silver bowl of the toilet glared angrily at him like the blue-centered eye of a Cyclops.  He pressed on one of the tabs by the sink and jumped as freezing cold water was spit out, splattering on him.  He took off his un-waterproof watch  and placed it on the counter.  He grabbed some towels and contemplated exactly how to wash the pants he was wearing.  The plane suddenly bounced, throwing him off balance.   CLINK.

    What was thatÖ?

    His watch no longer sat by him on the counter.  It now swam in the blue liquid of the metallic toilet.  His nose cringed.
 
    I dun wanna stick my hand in THEREÖ

    He leaned over  the bowl and placed his hands in front of him on the wallÖand stared down at his helpless watch.  Another bounce from the plane.  He jerked and his hand hit a lever. FLOOOSH.

    NoooÖ.!

    In a blink, his watch was gone; the hungry toilet swallowed it.  He decided he had had just about enough of the cramped bathroom.  His elbow and shin were still throbbing.  He turned and located the small door handle to unlock it, to let himself free of the horrid 7x4x4-foot space.  The light switched off as the sign outside traveled from ëoccupiedí  to ëvacantí, but his hand was stopped in between the words.  The seat belt sign went on.

    "KÖfolksÖa bit of turbulenceÖyouíve probably noticedÖweíve turned on the fasten seat belt signÖjust stay in your seatsÖweíll be landing shortly anywayÖ" the captain said over the intercom.

    Dwayne stayed silent and tried the handle again.  He pulled it.  He shook it.  He hit it.  He attempted to turn it all the way one way, then the other.  He used all his strength.  It was jammed.  It sat there, teasing him, stubbornly stuck solid.

    NOW what?! What if  Iíll be stuck in here forever!?  What if then theplane will land!?  What if  then Gretchen will go on with her life!?  What if then the stewardesses and everyone leave!?  What if then the plane will be too old to fly!?  What if then theyíll stick it in a junkyard!?  What if all the while Iíll be sitting here, rotting, waiting for my imminent deathÖ

    Dwayneís mind swam with seas of "what ifs".  His head joined his elbow and foot in throbbing.  Was the room circling?  Or was he?  That wasnít a star, right?  He squinted.  Why was everything a blur? Blackness.
 
 

    Gretchen checked her watch.  He had been gone almost half an hour.

    "Either heís really persnickety, or in troubleÖ" she reasoned out loud.  She rolled her eyes with a sigh and made up her mind to get up and go find him.  She located the set of restrooms she had sent him too.  All said ëoccupiedí.  Great.  She hadnít planned knocking on all of them innocently asking "DwayneÖ?".  Wait.  One was between ëoccupiedí and ëvacantí.  Odd.  She knocked. No answer.  She attempted to turn the door handle.  With a bit of fighting, it finally gave way.  Dwayne was a a crumpled mass of pale skin and clothes on the floor.  She  calmly called for a stewardess.  The plane was landing.  The two of them dragged him back to his seat and gave him some smelling salts.

    "WHAÖ?!" Dwayne woke with a start.

    "So you ARE alive," Gretchen actually teased, packing her book into her small bag.

    "WHOÖ? WHEREÖ? WHYÖ?" Dwayne was still; confused.

    "Dear, you fainted in the bathroom,  itís as simple as that," she stated soothingly,  making sure the zippers and buckles on her bag were in place.

    "OHÖ" a sense of realization came over Dwayne.

    "Anyhoo, you survived the descent, weíre on solid ground," she informed him, standing up in the crowded aisle to stretch.

    "OH?"

    "Yeah.  Well, have fun wherever youíre goingÖ" she timidly waved, slung her tiny bag on her shoulder, and went along with the new, slow moving flow of the line towards the exitÖout of sight.

    "Oh." Dwayne sat, unsure of what to do.  He shrugged and warily attempted to stand up, forgetting the sloped ceiling above the seats; he banged his head.  "Ugh! Another part of my body that needs to throb!" he muttered to himself.

    Dwayne followed the wave of passengers to the baggage claim area.  He scanned for a sign that read his flight number.

    Címon, where are you?Ö18379Ö.25743ÖAh-ha! 24135! FinallyÖ

    He shuffled to the baggage carrousel and didnít like the looks of it.  It too, gleamed sliver like the evil toilet from the plain.  He looked down and half grinned at the fact that his pants still held the marks of the coffee spill.  He found an empty spot by the circular bend of the oval shaped baggage contraption.  He almost jumped out of his skin when it turned on and began to move.  He squinted and searched for his huge gray duffel bag.  The machine spit out about 3 bags at first and seemed to hesitate before turning out about a billion more.  The moving oval of chrome plates patiently took each bag and presented them to the waiting passengers, as if selling merchandise.  Dwayne didnít see his bagÖ.but he saw HER.  Gretchen was across from him, on the other side of the bend.  She glanced up and actually gave him a smile, and he gave her a goofy grin.

    Idiot! Why did you GRIN like that!? ahhhÖ

    She gave him a look and began to scan for her bag again.  People began to peel away from the carrousel, like the sections of a huge orange, until finally, Dwayne and Gretchen were the only two sections left.

    Do I say anything? I needa calm down.  WHERE is my bag?Ö

    Dwayne finally noticed that the other passengers, except for Gretchen, had left the vicinity.  He heard a sigh of relief and looked up to see Gretchen reunited with her bag that the carrousel finally gave up.
 
    "I thought the airlines had lost it! Silly me!" she smiled.  Dwayne liked her true smile.  She looked up and saw him standing alone.  A pang of guilt hit her.  She felt had to say something, not just leave.  "Oh well, er, have a nice trip, umÖ" she fought to remember his name, "Uh, DwayneÖwherever youíre goingÖ" she waved and said goodbye to him for the second time since their first meeting.

    "ByeÖ" Dwayne whispered and gave a half-hearted, sad, lonely wave of his hand.  He turned and looked at the horrid machine.  His thoughts flew again.
 
    Omagod, omagod, omagodÖ! She said she thought the airline lost HER bagÖWhat if they lost MINE!?Ö

    The carouselís shining, moving slats glinted as if silver in the artificial light provided by the light bulbs that hung high above.  People silently passed by, in their own little worlds; searching for loved ones, rushing to catch their next flight, looking for gate numbers, wondering where their baggage claim carousel was, munching on junk food, and crowding up hallways.  Dwayne stood and watched the carousel and itís "silver" slats  turn, and turn, and turnÖ

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