First time flying

You begin by walking up to the baggage check-in area. You don’t know what the bag guy meant when he asks for some appreciation for his service, so you just shake his hand. He dead-fishes you with the lifeless gaze that you will see often from airline employees.

You get lost trying to find the security check-in area, but you laugh it off when you explain to the TSA agent that this is your first time flying. She doesn’t find the situation amusing but instead strips you naked, looking for marijuana.

When she doesn’t find anything, the agent pushes you down with the butt of her rifle and says, “Welcome to Indianapolis International Airport.”

Confused and broken, you stumble through the terminals, knocking into smelly airport hoppers and livid businessmen with shiny earpieces. You walk past all the duty-free merchandise shops to your terminal and meet new travel buddies.

After about 30 minutes, you realize this is the wrong terminal, but consider boarding the wrong flight anyway to avoid the embarrassment of leaving your new friends. They get in line, you skulk away, eventually forgetting they ever existed.

Upon arriving at the correct terminal, you find that your flight will be delayed. You sit and wait.

A Santa Claus look-alike picks crumbs from his beard. He looks left to right, and you make direct eye contact. He eats some of the beard poop. He mouths the words, “You tell no one.”

You nod and move over to a group of over-privileged youths. A particularly fat one stands while the rest sit. His shirt is buttoned up all the way, making his head a little larger than it should be. His half-open eyes scan the room for cleavage, and when he spots some he breathes with his mouth open.

You think about warning the busty chick he’s ogling, but then you begin to do the same.

The plane rolls in, and you board. On the flight, you sit next to Santa Claus in the seats next to the emergency exit.

After the flight attendants review the safety protocols, you declare you are not ready for the responsibility of protecting the lives of your fellow passengers, so you are moved to a window seat behind the left wing.

Your neighbor is a New Yorker who turns 17 in a few weeks. He asks you what you’re going to do in Europe. You reply, “Drugs.” He’s silent for most of the flight, and you couldn’t be happier.

Dinner is served — microwaved chicken and boiled spinach. You eat it all but regret it later while sitting in the lavatory. A flight attendant asks if you are all right. A long queue develops while you violently empty your bowels.

The smell is foul, and there’s no air freshener.

You flush the toilet several times with the seat down to exhume the odor, and then you open the door. The TSA agent from before pushes you back into the bathroom and makes sure you didn’t slip any marijuana past her. Again, she finds nothing.

She tells you to put your pants back on and welcomes you to London.


E-mail: nicjacob@indiana.edu