Turbulence

"Now boarding: flight four-seventy-four, non-stop flight to Los Angeles."
Andy winced at the words announcing his impending death.

"Time to go, Daddy!"

Kylie, Andy's daughter, hopped excitedly from her perch on her mother's lap.

Andy stood, letting out what would have normally been an emphatic sigh. This time around, it was genuine despite the woosh of air that was forced from between his cheeks.

"It'll be ok, babe."

Andy's wife, Nancy, rubbed his back in a circular motion while she cooed him into submission. She had taken hours talking him into this, she wasn't going to have him lose it at the last minute.

After hugging his wife and daughter good-bye, for the last time he feared, Andy walked toward the growing crowd that now obscured the ticket taker's podium.

He watched as other men and women said their good-bye's through hugs and kisses before they boarded. To Andy, they all looked like concluding hugs, the type you gave to a family member who was on their way to execution, although, no one was crying. He admitted to himself he may have been exaggerating...a little.

Andy watched a young couple passionately kissing as they stood aside the crowd of people. He raised an eye brow once he saw a flash of tongue being exchanged, looking around to see if anyone else saw this vulgar display of affection. As far as he was concerned, she might as well have been on her knees blowing him, he was always uneasy about public displays of affection, as a spectator or participant.

The couple had the young and in love posture about them. It looked to Andy, with the ruffled hair and clothing that looked pulled on and didn't quite fit correctly, that someone had a lovemaking session in the airport parking lot before coming to check in with the airline. In fact, if he looked closely, Andy thought he could make out smeared lipstick on the girl's face. It wasn't the kissing type of smear, which was around the mouth area, but the smear that lead all the way to your cheek, the type of smear that one could only get from the passionate osculation of lovemaking.

"Now boarding: rows one through fifteen."
Andy looked down at his ticket, although he knew he was in row fifteen. When he came to the large crowd, he got on what he was pretty sure was the line.

He scowled at the fact that passengers who waited for their rows to be boarded stood around the boarding area, ruining the sense of organization that would have calmed his nerves. They only made it worse, standing around as if flying at 35,000 feet were some rag tag event that didn't take any order or organization. It was indeed the contrary.

Airliners such as the one he was about to endeavor had over two million(or so he'd heard) working parts, all of which had to work in perfect order and organization to be succesful. If an airline couldn't control a couple hundred people, how would it possibly control two million parts? It wasn't that absurb a speculation, a flight crew had to be perfect. Not good, not even great, but perfect. There was no satisfactory grade, except perfect. Getting 1,999,999 parts to work wasn't good enough.

Andy had to catch his imagination from running away from him again. Surely there were safeguards, hundreds of gauges, little red lights that lit up when there was a problem. He reminded himself it was 2006, the majority of those parts were surely automated, they didn't make human errors. Computers don't turn in their seats to watch the new flight attendant's back side as she turned to leave the cockpit. Computers don't have a martini or two because they've flown hundreds, even thousands of succesful flights. Computers didn't drop their guard. Computers di--
"Sir, your boarding pass?"

Andy was startled to find he was standing in front of a middle aged woman in a Delta Airlines uniform. She had her head cocked impatiently, holding her palm out towards Andy, leaving him to wonder how long he'd been standing there unresponsive to her request.

He handed her his boarding pass, slippery with sweat where he had been gripping it tightly. He was nervous she would notice.

She didn't, or atleast pretended not to notice, asking for his ID. Andy slapped at his back pocket and brought out his wallet, pulling his ID from it's designated compartment and handing it over to the woman.

He looked more closely at the woman. Tightly woven into a bun, she had aging red hair that appeared more orange with grey streaks appearing every so often. She looked from behind cat eye glasses, something Andy hadn't seen in years, with what his wife would call "change of life eyes". They were a stricken blue color, you could read stress on them even if she was smiling, the kind of eyes one unknowingly had while going through a personal crisis. It created the effect where a person never seemed quite happy. Andy always argued with Nancy that there were more problems for middle aged women besides menopause.

"Enjoy your flight Mr. Garrison."

She held out his pass and ID in the same hand, vaguely staring at him through those stricken blues. It was like she was staring past him.
He smiled and headed through the doorway to death.

***

Andy was still shaken by the enclosed ramp that lead to the actual plane. It shuddered with each of Andy's steps, which he purposely exaggerated, thumping loudly down the ramp. The woman walking a few feet ahead of him turned, and shot him an agitated look, one that said you're too old to be doing that. Andy didn't care, he was testing it's durability for christ's sake.

He wondered if it meant anything and if it was worth mentioning to someone on the flight crew. He decided it was worth mentioning, and expressed his concern to the smiling flight attendant who stood just inside the door of the plane. The flight attendant laughed warmly at this, but ended the laughter abruptly and asked Andy to "please take your seat."

Andy was appalled by the flight attendant's response, but decided by the time he sat down that at least the ramp wasn't part of the plane. Although, if they couldn't make a sturdy ramp...

Once again, Andy had to catch his imagination from slipping out of control. For this trip he would have to lock it up and throw away the key.

This was all Nancy's fault. She was the one making him go.

About twenty four hours ago, Andy got a call at his apartment in Washington D.C. from the University of California at Irvine.

Andy was a college professor, but had been out of work almost a year and had applied around the country to what felt like hundreds of universities, to no avail.

He was "let go" from his former employer after he discovered incriminating evidence about the head professor of the science department and a very attractive young student named Marie. The University tarnished his name, in return for nine years of hard work. It all caught Andy by surpise really, he had no intention of exploiting his discovery, as he accidently stumbled upon it.

Still, the head of the department couldn't take any chances, and falsely reported that Andy was intoxicated on the job. It had been impossible to even fetch an interview ever since.

Now, he had a chance to revive his career. UCI's Marine Biology teacher had suffered a fatal heart attack, forcing them to reluctantly call applicants they had never even bothered to respond to.

The problem was they wanted Andy for an interview in a day and a half, and if he couldn't make it on such short notice, the position would be filled. Andy's normal modes of travel, by train and automobile, were out of the question, especially since he needed a substantial amount of time to get his things together for an interview.

To Andy, they might as well have not called, because as he saw it, it was not possible to get across the country on such short notice. This was because Andy has been terrified of flying for as long as he could remember. He could not even bear watching a plane take off, and if he did, he held his breath, bracing himself for the fuel tank to explode violently.

His wife had forced him to take a plane, knowing of his phobia, but she said he had no choice, they couldn't afford for him to ignore an interview. They had been struggling financially, and no matter what anyone said, that always put strain on a marriage.

Now, he sat back in his leathered seat in row fifteen, seat E, the middle seat. He couldn't endure the window seat. He felt less brave than foolish for finally facing his fear.

He watched, attempting not to look as horrified as he actually was, as the passengers filed in.

"You ever flown before?"

Andy was caught off guard by the question, he had failed to notice the young woman occupying the window seat next to him, although she had been there all along, atleast since he got seated. He was staring into deep brown eyes, meaningful brown eyes. She was quite pretty, middle eastern Andy guessed, but from the sound of it, had spent plenty of time in the U.S.

"I've flown before, of course I have", Andy defended. "Who hasn't, why would you think I haven't flown before?"

"Well you're sweating bullets and the air conditioning is on, for one thing."
Andy could feel his face burning with embarrasment.

"Ok, so I've only flown only a few times," Andy lied.
"You're lying."
"Ok, only once."
"You're lying again."
"You're good."
"Damn skippy."
Andy offered a grin, and she returned one.
"What's your name?" He asked.
"Sumita, you can just call me Sumi."
"Hello Sumi, I'm Andrew, you can just call me Andy."
"Groovy, Andy it is."

Andy wondered if she had spent her whole life in the U.S., with phrases like "damn skippy" and "groovy" rolling off her tongue like your every day all-american girl.

"I thought I was making you nervous," she said, "but then I saw you hadn't really noticed me."
"What, why would you make me nervous?"
She looked perplexed at his genuine curiosity.
"Hello! Terrorist here! I'll kill us all and such."

Andy tried to stifle his laughter when he saw a nearby flight attendant shoot them a searing glance, although none of the passengers seemed to notice what she had said.

"Not that I'm the type to stereotype, but I would hardly worry about you being a potential terrorist."
"And why not!"

She truly looked offended by this, causing Andy to laugh out loud this time. He spoke through his laughter:
"I don't know, maybe it's the T-shirt reading 'Juicy' and the Abercrombie jeans."
Teaching at a university for nine years, Andy certainly knew a young American when he saw one.

"You'd be surprised, Andy."
"What do you mean?"

As he asked her this, his eyes walked along her mocha brown skin, over her full lips that seemed to yearn for sensuality. Yes, she was a fine distraction from his turmoil.

"I get plenty of suspicious looks."

Andy's concentration on her had been slightly thrown off by her sudden serious tone.

"Oh? From who?"
"Mostly women, I don't think men are too intimidated by the thought of a female terrorist."

Her tone had lightened some again.

"Why do you think that is, Sumi?"
"Because men are pigs."

This set Andy off again, laughing briskly until his cheeks hurt.

"Oh, so men are pigs now because they're not discriminating against female middle easterners?"
"We're just as dangerous as men, didn't you see that bit on CNN about women killing in certain parts of L.A. as much as men?"
"Yes, actually, and as I recall it was about hispanic women in exclusively hispanic areas."

Andy smirked, feeling he had won that battle, but she was relentless.

"What does that matter? It's the idea in general, and I'm not middle eastern."

Andy was embarrased at that, he was never one to generalize a person from looks alone, and often scolded others for doing so.

"I'm really sorry, to whom do I owe the apology?"
"I don't really care, Bangladesh."

She gave him a reassuring grin, then leaned back in her.

"You'll be fine Andy, I'm not going to bullshit you with that 'you're more likely to get in a car accident' shit, though."

She seemed wise beyond her years as she said this, with her eyes confidently but calmly closed. She continued:
"I mean c'mon, there are tons more cars than planes flying around, they probably include fender benders in that accident percentage, and there's a much higher survival rate in car accidents as well, when there's almost no survival rate in plane crashes."

Although she was trying to make Andy feel better, her effectiveness was waning with comments like that.

She opened her eyes again and turned back toward Andy again.

"But you'll be fine Andy, it's really unlikely."
Andy frowned.
"What part of that was supposed to make me feel better?"
"Put it this way, you're more likely to be kidnapped and win the lottery in the same day."

The wisdom that seemed to be beyond her years was all but gone.

"I highly doubt the percentages are that slim."
"Why?"
"I've heard a lot more reports of plane crashes than simultaneous lottery winners and kidnapees."

She giggled, leaning her head against the circular window for support.

"You're funny Andy."

But Andy certainly wasn't joking anymore. He noticed that she had kept him well distracted for a while, boarding had even seemed to be completed amidst their conversation.

The flight attendants and a couple persistent passengers were in the aisle, shoving oversized carry-on bags into the overhead compartments.

There was a nearby middle aged woman, who couldn't have been much taller than five feet, losing the battle with her large suitcase. Andy watched with mild fascination as she struggled, not even occuring to him to help until an older man stood and shoved the bag easily into the compartment. She thanked him and he nodded nobly. All in a day's work ma'am, he seemed to say. Andy saw a United States Marine Corps logo design engraved on the man's forearm. The man looked around proudly, seeming to speak more of his silent and gestured dialect: I may be old, but this Marine is still worth something.

"Something interesting over there?"

Andy had almost forgetten she was there again.

"Oh, no, nothing," he said.

"Well, why are you headed to L.A. anyway?"

Andy sighed in exasperation. He felt no desire to discuss his business, and in turn began to grow tired of her constant verbal probing. He placed an elbow on it's corresponding armrest, and propped his head in the L shape he created with his thumb and index finger.

"Well..." Andy began.

He waited for something, anything, to bail him out of having to explain his situation, and got it, coming in the form of an electronic chime: Bing

"Good morning, I'd like to welcome you to Delta Airlines, flight four-seventy-four, non-stop to Los Angeles. My name is Gregory Nixon, and I'll be your captain for today. We'll being cruising at about thirty seven thousand feet, the weather report in Los Angeles is clear and sunny, about eighty four degrees, so we should have a smooth and comfortable flight. May I remind you this is a non-smoking flight and would like to thank you for choosing Delta Airlines for your trip. Unfortunately, the runway is pretty gridlocked, and we won't be taking off for probably another forty five minutes. We apologize for the inconvenience and offer a complimentary bonus on frequent flyer miles when you arrive in Los Angeles. Thank you for your patience, and thank you once again for choosing Delta Airlines."

There was a concluding screech of conflicting electronics and the cabin was again silent except for the low murmurs of dissapoinment.

"They always mention it's a 'non-smoking flight' and have these non-smoking signs, but every flight is non-smoking," Sumi said.

Andy noticed the illuminated non-smoking icons above his head with various switches and other icons. His heart jumped as he felt the plane lurch backward.

"Relax," Sumi said. "We're only rolling out to the runway."
"Yeah, yeah."

The plane wheeled back, then forward, toward the runway Andy could not himself see. The engine whined and whinnied consistently until they came to a halt.

A few minutes later they started rolling again, but not for very long, coming to another halt. This happened repeatedly for several minutes, until Sumi said:
"Runway traffic jam."

Andy hadn't realized that they had stop and go traffic jams even on runways, he had heard the pilot say there was "gridlock", but at the time he thought it was a bit of pilot lingo.

"Atleast you don't have anyone in the seat next to you," she said. "So you have a little more arm room, that's a good omen."
"You're a worse liar than I am, Soom"
"Ok, sorry, but Soom? Sumi is already short for something Andy, and 'Soom' is ugly."
"Sorry, just kind of came out."

The plane pushed forward a few more feet, as Andy put his head back on his seat. He was trying to take advantage of this delayed takeoff and calm down, and he was generally calm at this point, but he knew once the time came, he would again be mortified.

***

Finally, the plane got to a consistent roll, which meant they had broken free of the runway gridlock. Andy felt the large aircraft turn 180 degrees and stop.

A pretty young flight attendant walked by Andy in that graceful way that only flight attendants did. Andy watched her, swallowing deeply, as she made her way to the front of the cabin and pulled a phone from it's receiver on the wall. This alarmed Andy at first, who was she calling? Was there a mechanical problem?

Half a moment later he realized it was to address the cabin as she faced back toward the rest of the passengers.

She introduced herself and thanked the passengers for choosing Delta, similar to the pilot, and reviewed rules and regulations of the flight. Another flight attendant stood along side her, an older woman, and mimed her partner's instructions for the ejecting oxygen masks.

Andy found he had a hard time paying attention to this presentation, and decided if the plane was going down, oxygen wouldn't do much good anyway. The flight attendant concluded the presentation, mentioning "Legally Blonde" was the in flight movie.

The cabin lights dimmed, and the aircraft's whining engine elevated in pitch.

"This is it Andy."
Once more, Sumi suprised him.
"What," Andy hissed. "What do you mean, this is it?"

Sumi merely laughed.

"Sorry, bad choice of words, this is the best part I mean."

The pilot's voice was on the intercom a moment, his tone hardly a whisper.

"Prepare for departure."

Andy wondered if this was supposed to be on the loud intercom, or if it was an accident, a matter of stray limbs swiping against a button or switch.

He could hear the engine mustering velocity, it's whine increasing. It made Andy feel like he was aboard the starship Enterprise.

Another electronic chime sounded in the cabin, an icon above Andy's head simultanously lighting up. Fasten your seat belts.

The plane started rolling.

An infant, out of Andy's view, began screaming hysterically to be consoled. The infant was instead consoling Andy.

A plane with an infant wasn't going to go down, he thought, that only be be cruel.

They began to pick up speed, and Andy felt his seat thudding on his back.

"Goddam kids," he muttered under his breath.
Andy looked over, past Sumi, who was already squeezing her face against the window, and watched their surrounding area speed past them, faster and faster.

Faster.
When the plane tilted upward, Andy leaned back against his thudding seat and shut his eyes against the horror.

When the planes rear tires lifted off the runway, it was a feeling Andy knew he would never forget until the day he died. His stomach churned as he felt the rear of the plane leaving Earth. This was insane. Fucking Nancy.

Up, up, and away.
Andy opened his eyes, and looked back through Sumi's window, afraid of what he would see.
The wooded area surrounding the runway was quickly getting smaller and smaller, starting to resemble the trees you saw on the hillsides of a model train landscape.

Even if they went down now, Andy thought, only a couple seconds into the flight, almost surely all of them would die.

They were still angled toward the heavens, and Andy wished their inclination would flatten out, the angle wasn't helping his phobia.

Suddenly, the plane shuddered and the passengers let out a collective yelp of surprise and concern.

The plane still resonated with movement, slight vibrating under Andy's feet. It was above the normal electric vibration Andy got used to riding in automibles, trains, and now, aircraft, but not much.

"Don't worry," Sumi said. "Happens all the time."
As if on cue, the plane shuddered again, this time the collective yelp more alarming.
The electronic chime sounded.

"This is your captain speaking, seems we're encountering a little turbulence, we should be ou--"

The intercom clicked off mid-sentence, but noone seemed to notice. Andy hardly had either, and quickly forgot when he heard a voice from somewhere down the cabin: "On takeoff?"

Sumi began to laugh in what sounded like excitement, when she finally stopped, she added, "Panzies."

The plane's consistent whine gradually began to change in tone. A lower, more tortured sound began to emerge from the whine, with an occasional twat sound adding to the mix like a sadistic hook to the engine's beat. It became consistent enough for Andy to begin counting them for no apparent reason.

twat, twat, twat, twat, then, TWANG.

"Oh shit."

This was Sumi, but he didn't need her opinion to know that wasn't normal.

An excited murmur began to carry through the crowd, the infant starting to cry again. Andy hadn't even noticed when it stopped crying.
Someone who clearly lost their cool shouted through the cabin, "Where's the fucking Captain!"

This was a mistake, as the excited murmur instantly metamorphasized into a collection of panicky wails and low cries.

As if the very sounds of the panicked passengers added a heavy weight to the cabin, the right side of the plane dropped considerably, facing Andy and Sumi toward the earth.

Andy saw that the ground was far below them now, cars not even matchbox size, but ant size. People on the ground weren't even close to visible. Andy envied those people he couldn't see on the ground, but who he knew were there.

The plane shuddered once more, but with the plane sagging to the right and passengers now crying aloud, it seemed insignificant.

The intercom came on again, and this time Andy was sure it was accidental.

"Mayday, mayday. I repeat, mayday, mayd--"
The intercom clicked off again as the tortured engine's ghastly symphony slowed and came to a rousing conclusion, with a deafening explosion.
The blast shook the plane, but also shook Andy's bones.

The aircraft's nose no longer pointed upward but leveled, then turned downward, prompting the yellow cup oxygen masks to release from their compartments.

The cries were now screams, and Andy watched as seat mates clutched each other, even those seeming to be complete strangers. We don't love each other until it's too late, Andy thought.
It would have seemed that the most petrified would have been Andy. He was the one who was scared of flying, he thought this was his first and only flight all along.

This wasn't so. All those who had boarded nonchalantly, without a care in the world, were now out of their mind with fear. I have a higher chance of winning the lottery and getting kidnapped in the same day than this plane going down, they were probably thinking.

Andy, the man who couldn't even watch a plane take off, sat calmly, numb to the continuously shaking and crying cabin.

That's the human brain for you, Andy thought. The world laughed and called Nastradamus an ancient con-artist until those two planes knocked down the twin towers (two iron birds will rock the "great city", as he put it). Only to act horrified when it happened.

The cabin moaned under some unseen pressure and tore open viciously. The wound was on Andy and Sumi's side, about four or five rows in front of where they sat.

Sumi said something, screaming hysterically, but there was no way to tell what. Wind came screaming into the cabin, slapping in and pulling at Andy's face with hundreds of miles an hour's worth of force.

Andy's numbed terror ended when he saw that the wound in the side of the plane was opening. It tore passengers on their side from the plane, seat and all, one row after another. It was a morbid metaphor for the domino effect.

Sometimes the ruthless heavens would grab one passenger per row, sometimes two, sometimes all three. Nevertheless, Andy and Sumi were in the path, the wound only two rows ahead of them now.
Everyone on this flight was condemned, but this side of the plane was condemned to what seemed like a much worse execution.

One row ahead of them.

Suddenly, Andy's went deaf. Like his ear drums got a jumpstart on the bad news. He could only see, amplifying the horrified faces and crying grimaces around the cabin.

Two of the three seats in front of them tore away so quickly they seemed to vanish in thin air.
Now, Andy was staring out into the sky, the sun peaceful in the distance. It was amazing how calm it remained, seeming to watch as their plane fell apart at God knows how many thousands of feet in the air.

Andy looked down toward Sumi as the exterior of the plane tore away beside her. She was now exposed outside the aircraft, her hair flapping wildly, but never obscuring her now saucer size eyes.

Andy would never forget those eyes. Beautiful. Brown. Meaningful. Especially meaningful now.

Her eyes were filled with a terror one cannot imagine is possible until they see it themselves.
Still unable to hear, he could tell she was screaming, because the chords in her neck stoodout as thick as his finger.

He read her lips: Don't let me die.

But we're all going to die sweetie, Andy thought.
But he knew what she meant. Don't let her die like this.

Her seat began to tear away, but didn't completely, and Andy grabbed her hand.
She clutched it harder than his daughter had for her tetanus shot. Harder than his wife when she gave birth to his beautiful baby Kylie. Harder than anything he could remember.

Sumi was crying, but Andy only knew from the expression on her face, tears snatched away before they could even start to materialize on her face.

Andy knew he couldn't hold her if her seat tore away, so he tried to say "seat belt", but he wasn't sure how loud he was without being able to hear himself.

He was apparently loud enough, or Sumi was a smart girl, because she began working on her seatbelt frantically with her free hand.
She began pulling and tugging though, and Andy knew what that meant.

The seat belt was jammed.

Her face in a constant screaming grimace, she looked back at Andy in a despair that still begged for help.

Just then, someone from the opposite side of the plane, apparently bold enough to take off his seat belt, was sucked past Andy with lightning speed.

Andy turned just in time to see the body forced into two segments by the aircraft's wing, a gob of gore where it had hit.

Andy, motivated by observing Sumi's potential fate, attempted pulling the girl closer to avoid her being pulled free of the plane, but couldn't get her much closer with a jammed seat belt. He instead tucked her wrist under his armpit and gripped her upper arm.

The carpeting and underlying plywood began to tear beneath Sumi's seat. Slowly at first, then seemingly all at once, and a second later she is gone.

Andy's arms were still in the gripping position when she was gone, it had happened so quickly. For an instant, he felt the sick sliding/popping feeling as her arm was severely dislocated. Then she was gone.

Andy sat back in his seat, the numbness beginning to take over again.

He looked back inside the cabin to find that a lot of passengers were unconcious--lucky them--or already dead from shock possibly.

Even more were bracing each other, waiting for the impact, a few wore the yellow cup oxygen masks, but most dangled from above the seats.
One passenger had already endured an impact of their own, the refreshment cart resting atop the aging Marine, a couple seats behind Andy, in the aisle.

The carpeting and plywood beneath Andy's own seat began to give way, and Andy began to accept his fate.

He began to think of Nancy, this was her fault, but he forgave her, he still loved her. He thought about Kylie, she was always a daddy's girl, Nancy had even been jealous. In fact, Andy could hear her calling his name now.
"Andy," Nancy said. "Andy...Andy...Andy wake up, this is it!"

***

"Andy wake up, this is it!"

Sumi shook Andy until he opened his eyes, freshly pink with sleep.

Andy had a film of sweat on his forehead, but at first didn't remember what he had dreamt.
"I just had to wake you up for takeoff."
Andy's dream immediately came back when he registered Sumi's face.

"Jesus," he said. "What a nightmare."
"You can tell me about it in a minute, this is it!"
"This is what?" he cautioned.
She smiled then said, "Sorry, bad choice of words, this is the best part I mean."

The familiarity of the statement struck Andy like a sledgehammer. Then, again to his horror:
"Prepare for departure."

The pilot's whispery voice, followed by the starship Enterprise's building engine.

Bing.

Fasten your seat belts.

When they started rolling, the infant began it's unapologetic shriek. Andy was ticking off the chronological landmarks in his mind, his heart jumping with each marker.

Thudding of his seat.

Andy turned to see Sumi's face pressed against her window, watching as the trees passed faster and faster, until they blurred into one.

He closed his eyes. This can't be happening, he thought.

Stop it, he fought himself back.
A moment later, he felt the plane leave the Earth, he didn't dare look outside.

Nothing yet.

Just wait, he told himself.
Nothing.

Shut up, he countered himself again, you'll be waiting the whole flight for the plane to shudder n--

The plane shuddered, passengers yelping.
"Oh fuck," Andy said.
"Don't worry," Sumi offered. "Happens all the time."

Shudder, collective verbalized panic.
Bing.

"This is your captain speaking, seems we're encountering a little turbulence, we should be o--"

The intercom clicked off. Andy thought about the Captain's following announcement: Mayday, mayday. I repeat, mayday, mayd--

Andy's thoughts were slipping elsewhere now, the engine's whine beggining to slur.

Twat.

"On takeoff?"

Twat.

"Panzies."

I wonder, Andy thought, if Nancy and Kylie can still see us, or if they're even watching.

Twat.

Probably, she was always daddy's girl. But maybe not, it made Nancy jealous.

Twat.

Andy had been subconciously counting again, the countdown to terror, and time was about to be up.
"Fuck."

Andy said this aloud. It may have been partially due to his ironic fate, but mainly because he had forgotten his current read at home.

"The Da Vinci Code" was just getting good, he thought.

TWANG.