Trudy Clarke arrived at the airport
at 2:00. She plucked her “Viva Glam” lip
gloss from her bag, flicking the familiar substance across her plump lips
without thinking. Suitcase trailing
behind, Trudy entered the chaos of depositing her baggage, collecting her tickets,
and (god forbid!) security. She managed
to make it through the bustling line in record time without having her bare
feet on the airport floor for more than she needed to. Trudy couldn’t stand the grit of the place.
Checking her Christion Dior, she
realized she still had an hour before her plane departed. Trudy flitted through some of the stores
close to her Gate before settling down in a little café. Ten minutes later, she was tucking into half
a turkey and swiss sandwich and a small iced latte. Feeling refreshed she
strolled back over to the seating under a large “D-12.” Only a few minutes passed before a strong
female announced that the plane was ready for boarding.
Trudy gathered her oversized purse
and miniaturized suitcase and passed off her ticket to a short blonde
woman. She hurried through the recently
airborne hallway connecting the plane to the terminal. She was looking forward to getting a little
sleep before reaching New York. So
absorbed was she in these musings, Trudy was not prepared for the sight around
the final corner.
“Good afternoon, Madame.”
Oh
God. Trudy thought.
Terrified, it was all she could do
to ease past the smiling pilot and enter the death trap. She wanted to leave, to flee, but then he
would be on to her and… She couldn’t even consider it.
“Are you alright, Miss?”
“Fine. I’m fine,” she tried to hide
her trembling fingers and dodged the concerned stewardess.
She sat down in her designated seat
and held her breath.
Three hours later, Trudy Clarke
burst out of the plane at a sprint walk.
The Arab pilot stared after her in bafflement.
Ever since September 11th,
2001, events like this are not uncommon.
I’ve witnessed it myself. What began
as an unlikely event now constitutes a thriving epidemic that some constitute
as indisputable fact. What better way to
define myth and what better way to define tragedy?
No comments:
Post a Comment