Life Unbothered Read online

  Richard looked at me knowing I was throwing out excuses. “Remember the owner of this place, Sammy?” Richard pointed to the restaurant. “In case you forgot, we know the guy. He’ll make sure your car is safe.”

  Mundo pushed me in the front passenger seat of Richard’s Ford crew cab pickup, slammed the door and jumped in the back seat. I reached for the door handle as Richard was getting in the driver’s seat. Richard grabbed my left arm as I began opening the door. From the back seat, Mundo cupped his hand forcefully around my right shoulder.

  “C’mon Wade, don’t try to get out of this,” Mundo said.

  I closed the door and looked at Richard. “What is this, some kind of guerilla intervention?”

  “No, it’s more a pleasure intervention,” Richard said with a grin.

  The drive to Los Angeles International Airport was a blur as the anticipatory anxiety built up steam and my thoughts overloaded with visions of being stuck in an aluminum tube suspended in the sky. I gazed out the window and watched cars beside us jockeying for lane position on the freeway. Richard and Mundo were speeding me away from the desires I yearned for, taking me to the airport—the equivalent of hell in my mind. It would be much more comforting to spend the night with an old girlfriend and engulf myself in her. That would be a shot of heroin for me, a blissful mindless escape.

  “Where else would you rather be than with your friends going to Vegas?” Mundo asked.

  “I was going to call Andrea and get together tonight,” I said.

  Mundo belted out a laugh. “Well then you can have a threesome with her hairball of a fiancé.”

  “She’s engaged?”

  “Getting married in June,” Richard said.

  “Shit, I thought she’d never get married,” I said. “What about Cheri? I bet she would’ve spent the night with me.”

  “Wrong,” Mundo leaned closer to my head from the back seat and yelled into my ear. “She’s going to have a kid in a few months. You didn’t know she got married last year?”

  “No.”

  Richard smiled. “Face the reality, Wade. All your past admirers are married, or halfway through their first divorces.”

  “That’s why we’re going to Vegas,” Mundo said. “There are plenty of chicks. You can pick one from those catalogs. They’ll come right up to your room.”

  “Hell no. I’m not going to do that.”

  Mundo slapped the back of my seat. “I almost forgot. You’re the pretty one. You never pay for sex.”

  “Oh I pay for it, just not up front.”

  “I still remember going out to bars with you before I was married,” Mundo said. “The women would flock to you and I’d just sit alone and talk to myself. I was like the ugly cousin tagging along.”

  “You still are,” Richard said. “Now you’re just the ugly married cousin.”

  7. Puddle Jump

  We’d like to welcome you to Festival Airways flight one forty-two with service to Las Vegas.

  As the plane taxied to the takeoff line I tried to think of anything not panic-related, but my mind wouldn’t allow it. Happy places and fond memories were doused quickly, replaced by terrifying images of going crazy—running down the aisle of a plane screaming. The air inside the plane was dense and my lungs struggled for nourishment. I sat stiffly in my seat afraid to move even a muscle. I was in the aisle seat, Mundo was in the middle, and Richard got the window. Vain attempts to dull my racing mental absorption were ineffective. I kept checking my shirt for newly formed wrinkles and brushed my hand over the fabric as if scattering dandruff.

  “Relax Wade, this is going to be fun,” Mundo cut in on my twisted thoughts.

  “I’m not really liking this,” I said.

  “It’s no problem. In an hour, we’ll be in Las Vegas.”

  The hum of the engines grew to a steady roar and I sank back in my seat from the increased forward speed. The plane pitched upward and the floor rumbled as the landing gear curled into the fuselage. My legs began to quiver and a chill came upon me as the blood drained out of my extremities.

  Emergency exits. Emergency exits! Where are the emergency exits?

  I twisted my neck around to confirm the location of the emergency exits. The leap to freedom was about five rows behind me. I just wanted to know where they were in case I freaked out enough to pop one of the doors open and jump out.

  As I tried to usher inner calm and rested my head against the seat back, my body lurched as if I had just suffered a seizure. It took a second for my mind to register the change, then a flood of all-encompassing dread came over me. It was panic unparalleled to anything I had ever felt, an instant attack of epic proportions. This attack felt like the one, a finalization of all the years of worrying. This horror was real, and there was nowhere to flee locked in an airplane—no escape.

  I unclasped my seatbelt, jumped out of my seat and proceeded dizzily to the front of the cabin. I knew the emergency exits over the wings were behind me, but I kept heading for the front of the fuselage. I wasn’t quite at the stage to attempt a fatal dive out of the plane—but I was close. I didn’t know what kind of escape the forward section of the plane could offer, but my legs moved ahead, like a wild animal running instinctively from danger.

  “Wade, sit down!” I heard Mundo’s raised voice.

  My outstretched hands touched every seat back as I continued down the aisle, trying to register the sensation of the cloth.

  “DETACHED FROM THE GROUND!” I shouted as heads in front of me peeped out from the sides and tops of their seats all fixed on me, some with angry startled looks, others shocked. It surprised me as the words came out of my mouth.

  “Detached from the ground,” I repeated quietly to the gawking passengers as I stopped in the aisle.

  It was my worst nightmare with nowhere to escape, embarrassing myself in front of an unfamiliar pack of people. I was so terrorized, I couldn’t even blink my eyes. Exhalations made a loud whooshing sound as they exited my nose.

  I stood petrified as two flight attendants walked up the aisle. When they got about five rows in front of me, the back of my body slammed to the floor and a crushing weight came down on my chest. I saw a man on top of me pivot his gouging knee to turn his body around while keeping me pinned to the floor. He jammed his hand around my neck as I started to pant wildly, gasping for air.

  My attacker was a tanned, fifty-something freight train of a man with an overly round face covered by a couple days’ worth of stubble. The thick black whiskers made their way almost to his eye sockets. His wide knee was so close to my face, I noticed the small weave patterns in his brown slacks.

  “What the hell is your problem?” he blared.

  I closed my eyes when his hot breath hit my face. As he removed his hand from my neck, I saw Mundo’s blurred head dart behind the man. With a crushing blow, the man landed on top of me with force. Our faces collided before I could turn my head. The back of my skull immediately felt compacted. I imagined either some hair had ripped off my scalp, or I had just been dealt an unusually harsh back-of-the-head rug burn. Mundo’s arms flailed wildly, jabbing into my ribs. He was on top of the man, doubling the weight on my already taxed lungs. A few seconds later the burden on my body lifted when Richard pulled Mundo off the man, alleviating half the weight on me.

  I couldn’t yet comprehend the ruckus of people gathering above as I remained with my back pressed against the aisle floor. Through a pair of legs, I could see Richard pushing Mundo down the aisle before disappearing behind the other bodies that were gathering for a closer look at the commotion. With Mundo gone, the man resumed his crouched position with one knee resting on my chest.

  Richard reappeared, his head hovering directly above me. “Wade, you all right?”

  I blurted out something that the best Freudian disciple probably couldn’t translate. “My haunches are conflagrant.” The words
just flowed out of my mouth involuntarily. As I spoke, a young brunette stewardess from the front of the cabin knelt next to me.

  “This guy is whacked out,” the burly do-gooder said to the stewardess.

  “Get off him,” I heard Mundo shout from down the aisle.

  The stewardess squatted beside me like a migrant worker taking a smoke break. Her legs were far enough apart to give me a birds-eye view of the pale pink panties underneath her knee-length polyester skirt. No pantyhose to haze the scene, just silky skin and double-lined cotton. The sight was comforting as I studied the soothing pink hue and soft creased skin. It would be the perfect place to bury the memory of this hideous incident, if I could only move my body. As the stewardess patted my left cheek gently, my speech was still uncontrolled.

  “Your pink is swimming downstream,” I said, lifting my right hand and pointing between her legs.

  The stewardess recoiled her hand as if it had been bitten, clamped her knees together, and stood up. A male flight attendant quickly filled her place, crowding in between an aisle seat and my body.

  “Do you have any sedatives or something?” the man with the heavy knee asked the male flight attendant.

  “We don’t carry any—at least not on a short puddle jump like this.”

  A blackish haze crept into my peripheral vision. My head lightened as an innate organic sedative flowed through me, administered by my own brain, overriding the terror. A synthetic tranquilizer would no longer be necessary. My body welcomed the impending darkness. I was flying in a benumbed state where all the people staring from above disappeared behind a black curtain and any trace of encroaching dread filtered away.

  * * * *

  Consciousness came back after what seemed like hours of sleep. I was still supine on the aisle floor and the scene was patently the same as it was when I left the world. Apparently I had only lost consciousness for mere seconds, the same faces were still gawking down at me as I rolled my eyes around the circle of people.

  “Can you hear me?” the male flight attendant said, enunciating all four words.

  “Yes,” I grunted.

  “Wade, you want to stand up?” Richard asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s the matter with you, boy?” the man who tackled me said.

  His knee was still on my chest, but he had shifted most of the weight to the other leg, giving me some relief. I took in a couple of fast breaths as my body wound down a bit and my head regained its equilibrium.

  “I’m just scared of flying. I had a panic attack.”

  After I had said it, I realized it was the first time I had ever admitted having a panic attack to strangers—and even to Richard. It was like confessing to a crime that I had committed years ago. It felt good to get it off my shoulders—I just never expected to do it on my back in the aisle of a commercial airliner.

  “A panic attack?” The man removed his knee from my chest and sighed. “Jeez, that’s it? I was a volunteer sky marshal for a while. I thought you were a terrorist or something. You scared the crap out of me.”

  “No, no terrorist here. It’s more of a personal issue thing,” I said.

  The man grunted and slowly rose to his feet. He grabbed my right arm and Richard grabbed my left. They pulled me up so fast I became dizzy as blood drained out of my head. Standing provided a full view of the plane’s interior. I tried not to look around at the crowd of people gawking in my direction. My hands furiously went to work on the creases of my pants, trying to undo the ruffles created when the man tackled me. I looked up and glanced at Richard, whose eyes were wide, as open as I’d ever seen them.

  “Come on Wade, let’s go sit back down,” Richard said.

  “I’ll sit next to him,” my attacker said to the flight attendant.

  The flight attendant looked at Richard. “I think it would be better if you just went back to your seat. We’ll take care of, what’s his name? Wade? We’ll take care of Wade up here.”

  “It’s okay Richard, just go back to your seat and calm Mundo down.” I pointed to the seat next to me, about ten rows up from where Richard and Mundo were sitting. “Nobody’s sitting in this seat, I’ll just sit here.”

  The man directed his attention to Richard. “Your friend who jumped on me, tell him sorry. I was just trying to control the situation.”

  “He’ll understand. He just doesn’t like people tackling his friends,” Richard said with a grin.

  I slumped low in my new seat, knowing that I was the most embarrassed person on the plane by a long shot. The ex-marshal took the empty middle seat next to me. I vied for more armrest room with a couple of subtle nudges to his thick forearm. His arm didn’t move. My breathing calmed down enough to hear some whispered conversations going on around me. “What’s the matter with him?” “Did he try to hijack the plane?” “Does he have a bomb?”

  “I’m sorry, I just kind of lost it for a minute,” I said to the man.

  “It happens,” he said. “But I suggest you don’t fly for a while. At least not on any flight I’m on.”

  To my dismay, the male flight attendant returned a few minutes later and demanded some personal information to include in his report of the incident. The plane didn’t appear to make any sweeping turns, so I assumed we were not reversing course back to Los Angeles. I relinquished my Arizona driver’s license reluctantly and assured him that the information was accurate. The address was wrong. I didn’t care to tell him. My main concern wasn’t the airline’s report, but rather the possibility of arrest and detainment when I arrived in Las Vegas.

  Time seemed to speed up as I sat staring at the tray table in front of me tucked neatly in its upright position. Before I knew it, the plane tipped downward to start its descent. It was a short flight, but one that was now etched into my memory of towering negative events.

  I didn’t speak again to the gentleman who saved the plane from my raving lunacy. I didn’t even bother to get his name. The only words spoken were from the male flight attendant who instructed me to stay in my seat upon landing until every passenger had deplaned. I just wanted to run when the doors opened but would have to delay that plan. After the plane touched down, the man in the middle seat abruptly wedged by me and went to the front while we taxied to the gate.

  Ding. The humiliation set in as the seatbelt sign chimed and passengers in front of me glared back to get one last look at the crackpot, while those from behind turned their heads toward me as they passed by my seat. I wanted to give a courteous smile to the rubberneckers, but I was too ashamed to make any hint of eye contact. I continued looking down at my lap as I let the people pass, not wanting to stand and be ogled like some kind of criminal on a perp walk.

  “Okay Wade, let’s get out of here,” Richard said as he sidled my seat after there were no other passengers remaining.

  Mundo put his hand on my shoulder as I stepped into the aisle. “You all right?”

  “I’m just worn out. Sorry about the commotion.”

  I proceeded to the front of the plane as inconspicuously as possible, despite the tiny prickles of sweat coming from my skin that felt like steamy spotlights were aiming their beam down on me. About fifteen feet from the door, my gateway to freedom, I saw the man who tackled me talking to another guy, while the male flight attendant who confiscated my license eagerly pointed my way. The stewardess I had offended by commenting on her panties turned quickly and scurried down the walkway. Another man holding a walkie-talkie singled out Richard and Mundo and led them down the walkway, leaving me alone in the plane.

  “Mr. Hampton?” asked the man I had never seen before. His “service with a smile” expression made me pause for a moment before I nodded in recognition.

  “I’m Brent Howe, head of security for Festival Airways in Las Vegas. How are you?”

  “I had kind of a rough flight,” I said.

  “Could
you please follow me?” Brent gestured to the plane hatch as the former sky marshal passed us and disappeared down the walkway.

  I followed Brent Howe and the male flight attendant to the terminal. We made an immediate right turn after disembarking and settled behind a small unused ticket counter near the gate. The walk seemed as if it took an hour as my legs stiffened from the fear. Although I was relieved to be off the plane, anxiety still burned in my gut as I worried about going to jail. I didn’t think I could survive being restrained twice in a night with nowhere to escape.

  Brent turned around to face me. “Mr. Hampton, we received a report that you caused a disturbance on flight one forty-two, the flight you just deplaned.” My mind was defogging, but I was still a little slow and remained silent while he waited for an explanation. “Do you want to tell me about that?” Brent asked finally, a bit insistently.

  “I’m really sorry. Look, I was getting married and under some stress. I just flipped out for a moment.”

  “Oh, congratulations,” Brent said, though it sounded disingenuous. “Wait, was your wife also on the plane, or is she already here in Las Vegas?”

  “No, she’s in Phoenix. And she’s not my wife.” I looked at him as if he should’ve already known that. “I was on the plane because I think my friends know I’m afraid of flying.”

  Brent and the flight attendant turned to each other in puzzlement. It then dawned on me how strange the dialogue must have sounded.

  Brent lifted his hands. “Now let me get this straight—” he paused to start on a different track, deciding not to risk an elaboration. “Whatever the case may be, since there was no damage caused or threats made by you and your upheaval didn’t delay the flight, we have decided not to take further action against you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you have a connecting or return flight with us at Festival Airways?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Great. The only thing we at Festival Airways ask is that you refrain from flying with us anymore. Can you do that?”