FINALLY, A TRIP ABROAD
And a disturbance on the plane.
The attendant’s voice came over the PA, clear as Oklahoma sunshine. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be taking off in a few minutes. Our final destination is Taipei, Taiwan.”
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it was finally happening. Three dozen I doubt you’ll actually do its from friends back home. A endless string of nights spent up late, tearing through immigration documents, calling lawyers to check and to double-check—and collapsing into a tearful, shuddering piece of trash when one of the lawyers cast doubt on the whole process. Seventeen months and three days figuring out how to leave Oklahoma, and Jake had done it. God damn, what a feeling.
The feeling simmered down somewhat when the flight attendant told Jake his bags were overweight. “It’s just two pounds over,” he said. “Any way we could make an exception?”
The flight attendant shook her head sadly, the face of a woman who’d done this a thousand times over and wouldn’t bat an eye if Jake turned right around and planted his ass in the first yellow cab outside the airport doors.
“Shit. Well, alright then,” he said. “Give me a few minutes to repack.” And so he hauled his two suitcases—one big, grey, industrial, and a beat-to-shit blue one—to the side of the queue and began to repack. Thirty minutes later, twenty-eight of those having been spent in the line that had formed during the two he’d spent packing, Jake had his boarding pass. Thirty minutes after that he was through security, and precisely one hour later he was boarding the plane.
“Passport, please?” asked the woman checking boarding passes for the flight. It was the same woman who’d almost denied his checked bags. Jake fumbled for his passport, for a moment the shock of adrenaline—the did I lose my fucking passport—racing through his body before he found it, finally, in the bottom of his tote bag. Some chocolate milk had spilled on it, but just on the corner. On the outside. It’d be fine. Mostly Jake’s fault for buying chocolate fucking milk, he reasoned.
“Here you are.” She smiled. Jake smiled. Life was good. At least, it was about to be.
Now Jake had not done much flying in his life, but what little he had done was on the shittiest airlines in the country. Your Spirit, your Frontier. They hadn’t been all that bad back as a kid, when any seat was a throne and you could watch cartoons until you touched down at whatever destination your parents had decided was suitable for a cantankerous toddler.
But as he’d grown he’d learned to hate the plastic seats, the way you’d press up against your fellow passenger’s shoulders like chickens headed to slaughter. And, so, he had begun to detest flying.
But this flight was different. This was Delta. Delta Comfort Plus. Three inches extra-legroom, an extra smile or two from the flight attendants, boarding thirty seconds before everyone else. Luxury, by any gentleman’s measure. It was one of those big international planes with two seats on either side and a grouping of four in the middle, between the aisles. Jake had scored a window seat, right side of the plane. He peered down: nobody of interest. Meaning, nobody attractive enough or eccentric-looking enough to merit more than a second glance.
So he put his bag down in the seat next to his, which was still empty, and pulled out his phone. And he waited.
And he waited.
And, thirty goddamn minutes later (Jake seriously wondered if the flight was ever going to take off) the flight attendant announced they would be taking off shortly. There was still nobody in the seat next to Jake. This was exciting. For a moment he pictured himself there, all king-like, stretching his legs out over the seat next to him, watching films. Foreign pictures, probably. Real cinema. A flight to Taiwan would no doubt have something like this.
And then a woman showed up and the fantasy’s in Jake’s head fell to pieces. She sat down in a hurry. Looked frazzled. She had brown hair—Nutella-colored, Jake thought—and no carry-on suitcase, but she was in possession of a small, frayed, brown leather bag which she kept on her lap as she sat. She turned to Jake and gave him a polite nod. But something at the corners of her mouth… She was stressed. Jake looked ahead, taking care not to draw attention. He felt a little guilty about it because he knew he would’ve been more inclined to ask the woman if there was anything he could do, if anything was wrong, if she’d looked like Ana de Armas circa Blade Runner: 2049. But, alas, she did not. And so he put in his AirPods, looked out the window, and waited for the plane to take off.
* * *
The first two hours of the 10-hour flight were mostly uneventful.
Uneventful, of course, except for the woman next to Jake. Every minute or two, she’d look through the brown bag on her lap. Not for long. But, for a few seconds, she’d rummage through it, lips pursed, almost-frantic. And as the minutes passed, the woman seemed as though she was becoming increasingly stressed.
After the third hour, when the flight attendants had come around with a lunch, Jake felt he needed to ask. Clearly this woman was having some sort of problem. And he liked to help.
“Hey,” he said, putting his hand on her forearm, “is something wrong?”
She looked up at him and he noticed how intense her eyes were: a deep brown but not shallow like some eyes—these were searching. Her left eye was also twitching from time to time, a visual Jake found most unpleasant. After an uncomfortable moment, she replied, “Yes, actually. Thanks for asking.” And she turned back to her bag, rummaging.
Jake sat there for a minute. Had she turned down his help? Did she not want his help? He tapped her forearm lightly but she ignored him this time, continued searching her bag in intervals. Now this was frustrating. Jake had tried to help and been ignored. And, for a reason he could not entirely place, this made him want to help all the more. So this time he avoided the hand-on-forearm technique and just said, a little louder, “I’m sorry—I can’t help but notice you keep searching your bag. Are you looking for something?”
“Yes, but I don’t think you can help me find it.”
“And what makes you say that?”
At this the woman stiffened. She shot Jake a dark look. Then she allowed her expression to lighten, her eyebrows to unfurrow themselves. “Sorry,” she said, “it’s just I’m a little stressed. I’m looking for a key.”
“A key? To what?”
“My home. A fairly simple key, really. I had it in my bag when I left, but I can’t find it any more. There aren’t any spares. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost it. Have you seen anything?”
“Well, no,” Jake said, thinking how maybe he would’ve if she’d allowed him to help any earlier. “But I’m happy to help you search now,” he said, and half-meant it. This would, at least, be a diversion from the mid-flight doldrums—that period on a flight that occurs after you’ve exhausted your most interesting entertainment options and are left with the B-rate comedies on the in-flight system (no Oscar-winning foreign films on this one).
“There is one problem,” the woman continued, pulling Jake out of his thoughts, “that may make our search for the key slightly more difficult.”
“What’s the problem?”
“I believe the key was stolen by a fellow passenger. And I believe they will use it before we land.”
* * *
Jake had not imagined sitting next to a crazy person on his flight to Taiwan, but he was beginning to come to the conclusion that he, indeed, was. It was the best thing that could’ve happened on the flight, if you looked at it a certain way. Now he had something to keep him entertained. And he had a mythical quest he could partake on, an anecdote to share with the Taiwanese he’d be making friends with shortly. A win-win. And, he had decided, the woman was actually quite pretty. Not in a conventional sense, but in any case, she was.
Naturally, he asked follow-up questions.
“…what do you mean when you say someone is going to ‘use it before we land’?” said Jake. “I don’t quite understand that part.” The woman, to her credit, did not look crazy. And so Jake attempted to take her seriously with his questions, though internally he was composing a comedy sketch from this very moment.
The woman lowered her voice. “My home, it’s… You can get there as long as you have the key.”
“What does that even mean?” Jake asked.
“Okay, look,” she said, eyebrows furrowed again, lips pursed. “To open the door to your home, you need two things: the key, and the location. Meaning you have to be standing in front of that door, with the key, and it will open. Right?”
Jake chuckled. How were you supposed to respond to something like this? But he tried his best. “Well, that is how doors work,” he said.
“Not the door to my home. To get to my home you also need a key. But you don’t need a location. You can be anywhere. Almost anywhere. Point is, to get to my home, you normally just need the key.”
“I see. And you think someone else on the plane has this key, and that they intend on using it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Jake asked. It’d make for a better story if he followed through, if he acted like he believed this bullshit for a minute. So he did.
“Because there is only one key to my home. At least one key anyone can find. And it is my key. But there is more than one person who would like to access my door.”
“That math doesn’t add up.”
“Hence why someone on this plane has stolen my key and intends to use it before they land.” There was something in her delivery, in her voice, and especially in her eyes that compelled Jake to listen. He wasn’t sure what it was. But it was enough to get him to ask,
“So what do we do?”
* * *
Things did not get off to a successful start.
“How the hell do you propose we do that?” Jake asked. “First of all, I think that’d be a federal crime. Second, I don’t see how we do it without committing assault. Neither of those items are things I’m interested in.” He’d initially been interesting in entertaining this fantasy, but now it was getting all too real. He wished he’d never started the conversation.
“What do you mean?” the woman, who had introduced herself as June, said. “Why, couldn’t we just ask?”
“Ask? Really?”
“Why not?” she said. It was at this juncture Jake started to question if the woman had been on a flight in her entire life—and whether or not there were medications in her bag that she’d forgotten to take prior to boarding. But he took a deep breath. Steady on, he thought. Better to keep her talking than let her get up, do something unhinged, and get me in trouble. ‘Aiding and abetting the assault of a flight attendant’. I can see the headline now.
“Because,” he said, “a flight attendant will not give you their uniform, no matter how nicely you ask.”
“Don’t they have extra clothes somewhere? They wouldn’t need to be naked.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Oh. You mean you think they would be opposed to lending me their uniform? Even if I came up with a good reason?”
“I mean, yeah. And what reason could you possibly have for asking?” At this question June did that furrowing of her eyebrows, chocolate eyes darting here and there.
“I don’t know,” she said. She seemed genuinely frustrated. “Any ideas?” Jake paused for a moment. What could you say to a flight attendant to get them to give you their uniform? It quickly became a thought exercise—something Jake was quite fond of. So he treated his idea as such. A fun hypothesis.
And he said, “Well, you could say something like… Hey, I’m June, a Senior Inspector from the FAA. Here to make sure we’re following procedure. I forgot my cover uniform back in Oklahoma, but I need to conduct flight service because I need to make sure we’re doing everything up to code. Food safety, customer service, that sort of thing. But it’s just between you and me. If you tell anyone else, the whole thing goes down. I picked you because you’ve been working with us for more than five years and I know I can trust you to be loyal.”
“You think… That would work?” June said, eyes unsure and questioning. While Jake had been mildly impressed with himself at first, June’s expression melted every ounce of confidence. The idea sounded downright stupid.
But June held up her hand, twirled her fingers around, and produced—from what seemed like thin air—a very official-looking FAA card. “June,” it said. No last name. A picture of her face, an official seal, that sort of thing. All very impressive.
“How did…” Jake tried to ask, but June was already out of her seat. Oh god. But he was okay, he thought. He could watch from the comfort of his seat, had complete plausible deniability, and would love to see the shitshow that would ensue. And, yet, his heart was picking up pace. Little beads of sweat formed on the palms of his hands. He was clammy. Nervous for her, as she made her way down the aisle.
Kailey, the flight attendant in question, was standing alone near the restrooms. Most everyone else on the flight had drifted into sleep since takeoff. And, in that dark cabin, June walked up to Kailey and flashed her FAA card. Jake’s leg started shaking. What if they could say he was involved in this? Was this a terrorist charge? It was his idea, after all.
His attention was abruptly refocused by something strange: Kailey, the flight attendant, entered the one-person bathroom. June stood, outside the door, and glanced over at Jake. She smiled, it looked like, though it was hard to make out down the dim-light aisle. Five minutes later Kailey emerged wearing civilian clothes. She handed a bundle of something to June, who entered the bathroom and, shortly thereafter, emerged with a flight attendant’s uniform. And she walked back to the seat next to Jake and sat down. Smiling.
“That worked?”
Jake didn’t really know how to react to this. On one hand, it was difficult to believe. On the other, it had been his idea. It didn’t sound that far-fetched. Maybe it was just a brilliant idea. It wouldn’t have been his first.
“It did,” June said. Then she recoiled and asked, “did you think it wasn’t going to work?”
“Sort of.”
“Why would you have told me to do something that wouldn’t work?” She seemed frustrated, and for good reason. She could’ve been arrested. But she was crazy, and maybe that would be for the best.
“Well,” Jake said. “What now?”
“I begin to walk the aisles and search for the person who stole my key.”
Jake began to feel strangely left out. “Wait,” he said. “But I don’t have a uniform. I won’t be able to help you.”
“Sure you can,” she said. “Just walk along with me. No one will question it.”
“True enough.”
The two of them got up and began to walk the aisles, in search of the person who stole the key to June’s home.
* * *
“So what are we looking for?” Jake whispered as they began walking towards the front of the plane. “And what will we do if the other flight attendants notice you’re not Kailey?”
“We’re looking for a man. Middle-aged. Tall. He’ll be wearing all-black, most likely. A winter coat. He will most likely look like he just walked out of a snowstorm. And don’t worry about the other flight attendants. They won’t notice.”
“What do you mean they won’t notice?”
“Trust me.”
“Ok. Sure.” Jake’s heart was beating faster than it ever had been on the flight, but he was cautiously optimistic. She had been in possession of the FAA card. Whatever that meant, it was the only thing suspending his disbelief, and that had to count for something.
They approached the front of the plane. One flight attendants was sat down, on his phone. He did not look up. “So our search begins,” June said, and they began walking, slowly, up the rows of first-class seats. No man matching June’s description was there. So they continued into Premium Select, the grouping of seats before Comfort Plus.
“It’s hard to make anyone out in the dark,” Jake said. The airplane was lit by the dim glow above the baggage compartment, but it was dark. Sleep lighting.
“It won’t be hard to spot him,” June whispered back. “He’ll probably be a head taller than his fellow passengers, anyway.”
So they continued down the aisle. Jake on the right aisle, June on the left. Someone tall caught Jake’s eye, but upon closer inspection, they were a woman. No dice. Then, near the back of Premium Select, a tall man. But he was wearing a button-up, cream-colored polo. Nice piece, but not a black winter coat. The two of them wrapped up their search and continued, in their respective aisles, into Comfort Plus.
It wasn’t surprising they didn’t find the man in Comfort Plus. As it was their section, Jake had already scanned the rows as they stood up. Nobody had stood out. And this assumption was confirmed as they did a thorough sweep, though Jake did notice one woman asked June for some cookies. June said they’d run out, and that she was sorry, but that the woman could request a voucher for snacks when they landed in Taipei. Quite professional, the interaction.
Now to the peasants of the plane, the regulars, the economy class folk. This was the largest part of the plane and it would take some time. So before they proceeded down the aisles, Jake and June met near the restrooms.
“Nobody?” Jake asked.
“No,” June said.
“Hey,” Jake said, the realization hitting him, a slap to the face. “Don’t you think it’s weird that everyone is asleep on this plane?”
“Why would that be strange? It’s dark. Nighttime for most of these people.”
“Yeah, but, you know. There’s always somebody awake, reading or watching a movie. I’ve never seen a plane this silent.”
June paused, pressing her lips into a flat line. “Interesting,” she said. “That worries me.”
“Why?”
“Because of the person who stole my key.”
“What?”
“No matter. We need to continue the search, before it’s too late.”
“How do you know it isn’t?”
“Oh, you would know.”
And with that, June turned and began marching down her aisle. Jake did the same in his. And they reached the back of the plane, search fruitless. The memory of the FAA card had begun to crumble in the face of the evidence. This man was not on the plane.
“He’s not here,” Jake said. “Why don’t you return the uniform and we get back to our seats? This has been fun, sort of, but… I think we should give it up. Whatever this is.”
June shook her head. “That isn’t possible,” she said. “He has to have the key. Which means he has to be on the plane.”
Jake stood for a moment, thinking. Then he grabbed June’s forearm, squeezing. “June,” he said, “you know what I just realized?”
“What?”
“I don’t know where the other flight attendants went. Well, besides Kailey, who’s asleep in her seat. But besides the guy in the front, there aren’t any others.”
“Is that a problem?”
“God! Yes, it’s a problem. Most flights have, like, ten flight attendants. I don’t know how many. But a hell of a lot more than we have right now.” And before Jake could finish his sentence, June was tearing down the aisles. Towards the front. Jake followed, as quickly as he could without bumping into the stray elbows of the sleeping passengers.
In the front of the plane, June had found her man.
* * *
It had been the flight attendant. He wasn’t wearing all-black, though. He had a flight attendant’s uniform, just like June. But he was middle-aged and, now that he was standing up, extremely tall. He had a hand on June’s shoulder.
“…involve the others,” June was saying.
“You won’t get the chance,” he said. His voice was icy-cold. Deep. From his pocket, he pulled a black skeleton key. It was about the size of his hand, which was saying something. Jake stood about 10 feet back—something prevented him from coming any closer. The man, hand now pushing June against the wall, turned and inserted the key into the air. He twisted it. June made to grab it, but she was clearly outmatched. The guy was three times bigger than her.
And Jake found himself sprinting down the aisle, against all logic. Crashing into the man, shuddering against the door which led to the cockpit, the black skeleton key clattering onto the floor of the aisle. He didn’t have the size advantage, but he did have the element of surprise. The man backhanded Jake across the face. Everything went black. Starry. He tasted blood, felt the piece of a chipped tooth. What did I do?
He looked down the aisle. June had grabbed the skeleton key, which was in her left hand. With her right she reached into the coat pocket of the tall man, who seemed unable to stand up. Or move. Did I do that? Jake thought. From the man’s coat pocket June pulled another key, identical to hers. She took this key, turned it in the air, and a door opened.
That was the easiest way to say it: A door opened. It was black, engraved with the letter D, and through it Jake could make out what looked like a blizzard. A blizzard in the dark.
“I’ll tell the others,” he said.
“You won’t get the chance,” she said.
June kicked the tall man through the door, shut it, removed the key, and the door was gone. Back to silence, back to a dead-silent airplane cabin headed for Taiwan. Jake stood up, eyes blurry, mouth bloody as a slaughterhouse. He was, for the first time in his life, speechless.
“I’m going to go now, too,” she said.
“Wait, wait,” Jake said, clawing desperately at her forearm. “What just happened?”
“That was my brother,” she said. “I sent him home. And now I should send you back to your seat, so you can enjoy your flight to Taipei.”
“What? You’re not going to… I don’t know. Explain? Or take me with you?”
“Take you with me?” she exclaimed, eyes wide. “Jake. You think yourself better than others—really, Comfort Plus?—didn’t want to help me because you didn’t think I was pretty enough, and only played along because you thought it would be entertaining. If I had the choice, I’d permanently bar you from my home,” she said. “But it’s, what, March? I’ll see you soon.”
With that, June took her key and opened her door. On the other side was a picture from paradise: green, green grass, a brook flowing it, cottages on the hillside. “Goodbye,” June said. “And thanks for the help.”
“Wait.” Jake called out to June and she turned her head, halfway through the door. “Why did your brother want your key?” he asked, spitting blood and tooth onto the airplane floor. “Looks like he had his own.”
“Ask him yourself,” she said.
* * *
By the late fall Jake had realized the whole thing on the plane was a psychotic episode. That was what his therapist told him. And that was that. Fuck it.
Taiwan, by the way, was wonderful. You could go for a walk during the evening and eat street food to your heart’s content, write from the cafés, go for drinks with friends in rooftop bars shrouded in fog (and smog, though it added to the ambience). All on a budget.
There were downsides, of course. Jake found the women difficult to interact with. In Oklahoma you could be direct. In Taiwan the women were timid and seemed to think he was coming on too strong. And there were homeless people here, too, which was annoying though not entirely unavoidable. You just had to say something in Taiwanese—Jake didn’t know what it meant, but he’d heard others say it—and they’d shut up. The bars in the cleaner parts of the city were nicer anyway, the women prettier.
And that December, for the first time ever, it snowed.
Walking the black-asphalt road which led back to his city penthouse, snow blowing in drifts, Jake caught sight of a tall silhouette standing half-behind a back-alley dumpster. He didn’t think twice about it. He kept walking.