Page 3 of Pretty Please Me
TWO
Sam
I sigh as I drag my carry-on bag behind me, exhausted from back-to-back work trips spanning all over the globe, fueled solely by airport coffee and adrenaline from my last meeting. Good things are happening in my career, but fuck, I don’t know how much longer I can keep this on-the-go lifestyle up.
The line inches forward little by little as I impatiently wait my turn to board. When I finally make it to the front, I’m forced to surrender my carryon as there’s no more room in the overhead compartments due to the packed flight. That’s just great. As if I needed another hoop to jump through today.
I follow the string of passengers to the back of the plane, where I find my seat right next to an exhausted-looking mother and two small children. I try to maneuver over them to get to the window seat when the woman taps me on the back.
“Excuse me, sir. Would you mind swapping places with my little boy? It’s his birthday, and we’re flying to see his father. This is his first flight, and I know he’d love the window seat.”
“Sure, uh, I’ll take the aisle.” I back out awkwardly, waiting for her to slide over, but she just sits there, holding the baby to her chest.
“I’d actually prefer to sit on the aisle if that’s okay. Sometimes baby Julian gets motion sickness, and I need to be able to get to the bathroom quickly.” She gestures to the bathroom just behind us, and I gather that her seating choice was chosen on purpose.
“Oh, well, then, I guess I’ll take the middle.”
So much for the power nap I’d planned on sneaking in. There’s nothing more uncomfortable than wedging my six-three frame in the already narrow middle seat.
I suppose that’s what happens when you have a last-minute emergency in-person meeting added to your calendar. I can’t complain too much. This deal will make me at least ten million when it’s all said and done. Not to mention the perpetuities.
I step over her and collapse into my seat with a sigh.
“Mama, do you see that?” the little boy shouts over me, pointing at the plane’s wing.
“Yes, I do.” She nods.
“Mama. Mama. Mama. Watch this!” The kid says as he smashes his face against the small window. He blows hard, making a fart sound against the glass.
“Mmhmm.” She picks up her book, balancing it carefully on the baby’s head. It’s only been five minutes, and she’s already tuned him out. I check my watch again, willing the four-hour flight to go faster.
“Hey, Mama, what’s that? Mama, are we there yet? Hey, Mama, can I have a snack?” The boy rattles off request after request, and I seem to be the only soul on this aircraft who hears him.
For a moment, I’m concerned his poor mother’s hearing is impaired, but when I peek in her direction, I notice the dark circles and bags under her eyes. Her hair is a tangled mess, and it looks like she’s wearing last night’s makeup. She seems to be even more exhausted than I am.
I’m not really a kid person, but I can’t help but feel sorry for her. Perhaps it’s a lapse in judgment, or the exhaustion has finally done me in, but I surprise myself. “I don’t mind entertaining him for a while if you need a break–”
“Really?” Her eyes go wild as she looks me up and down, no doubt assessing whether or not I’m sane for the offering. Really, who offers to entertain a random hyperactive child who’s not theirs… on an airplane?Maybe I have lost my mind.
Before I can backpedal, she shoves the baby in my direction and pulls a neck pillow from her extra-large purse, complete with a drawstring hoodie to block out the light. And five minutes later, she’s snoring.
Damn, I guess mama really did need a break.
I’m partly annoyed but mostly jealous. Snoring is like bragging about sleeping to people who can’t sleep. Good for her…I guess.
“Hey, mister, I can count to one hundred. Want to hear me?” the small boy says, and I look around for any help, trying my best to make eye contact with the mother across the aisle. As if they know I’ve just shot myself in the foot, no one dares to look in my direction. My momentary lapse of judgment has thrown me to the wolves, and now there’s nothing I can do but pray for this flight to defy the space-time continuum. So far, luck hasn’t been on my side.
“Sure.” I agree, “Let’s hear it.”
Three hours later, the little boy–whose name is Cody, I’ve finally gathered—has long moved passed counting to one hundred. We’ve gone through the ABCs, he’s informed me more than I ever cared to know about Pokémon, and now, he’s educating me on his favorite dinosaurs in order of their existence.
Really, does this kid shotgun the Discovery Channel? Is his dad some kind of paleontologist or some shit? How can someone so young—he’s four, we’ve already been over his birthday party—know all this random information?
Baby Julian jumps in my lap as I do my best to steady his wobbly baby legs. Three hours is a long time for little kids, and by the time we make it to the Cretaceous period, the once giggly baby is quickly becoming tired of me.
I not too subtly nudge the snoring mother’s arm, knocking it clear off the armrest, but she only turns on her side facing the aisle and curls into a deeper and apparently more comfortable position.
I’m considering pinching little Julian’s leg to force a cry out of him when the flight attendant comes around with the snack tray. “Cookies, nuts, or pretzels?” she asks as little Julian squirms in my lap, trying to make a breakaway.
