The Blues

by Chris Allen

34 A, 34 A, I thought to myself as I eased my way to the back. The commotion of multiple passengers trying to squeeze their oversized carry-on bags had taken my attention away from the already crying baby a few rows back. A young lady in a burgundy cardigan seemed to be interested in me. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her either.

“Excuse me sir,” yelled an old lady behind me.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I replied.

I took my seat only to unfortunately realize that her seat was 34 B. The girl in the cardigan looked back once again to assure my interest. Already bored, I grabbed an old copy of Sky Mall magazine resting in the seat pouch just below my knees.

“Do you remember the Reagan days, boy those were the good days!” said the old lady.

“I’m sorry but I don’t,” I answered quickly.

Fuck, the first mistake that I made was speaking back.

“What! You don’t remember the Reagan days! Well Reagan was a handsome man and great actor.”

Her voice faded away as I leaned forward to take a closer look at the girl in the cardigan. The sunlight bounced off of her fluorescent green eyes. Her curly blonde hair dropped just below her slim shoulders. Oh, and her tits were amazing.

“Reagan, was by far the greatest president of all time.” Her voice faded back in as I slouched into my seat.

I thought it would be incredibly rude to pull out my ipod and cover my ears, so I did just that. The old lady didn’t even notice,

“Good morning everyone, welcome aboard flight 47 departing from Portland, Oregon. We will be arriving in Boston Massachusetts in a few hours.” announced the Captain.

As the flight attendant began to demonstrate proper emergency procedure, I noticed an interesting tattoo on her right ankle. It looked similar to a swastika. Whatever, my ancestors are German too.

“As we prepare to take flight, remember all electronics off” said the flight attendant.

The girl in the cardigan looked back one again with a devious smile on her face. I smiled back while turning off my ipod and cell phone. For now I had to listen to the old lady. I leaned back even more and sunk into my seat. I looked up one last time just to see the girl in the cardigan once again peaking my way. The rough engine started to rumble as we rolled on the runway.

“Oh god its so bumpy!” screeched the old lady.

I examined her interesting figure. She was about 5’ 2” with a petite build. Possibly a former athlete. She wore a neon green Reebok jump suit, and I could see the shedded gray hairs on the collar of it. Two rows in front of me I spotted an old Middle Eastern man. Hah, terrorists, I thought to myself. This little old man couldn’t be a terrorist; He had to be at least 65 years old. His gray mustache and beard combination covered a majority of his face. He wore a brown polo shirt tucked into his khakis. The law book in front of him made me believe that he was well educated. No terrorist. My eyes followed his stature from head to toe. His old man pants rose above his ankles showing rusty tan skin. On the bottom of his ankle I spotted the same tattoo I noticed on the flight attendant. Whatever, maybe they’re from the same area. Just a coincidence.

“My grandmother was a lesbian, you know!” said the old lady.

“Excuse me ma’m, I need to use the restroom,” I said, quickly getting up from my seat.

The girl in the cardigan got up just as I did and slowly headed my direction. I figured she had to use the bathroom as well so I didn’t mind. I glanced back at her pleasant appearance before I shut the door. I didn’t actually have to use the restroom but I needed a break from the old lady. I turned on the cold water and splashed it on my face a few times.

Fuck, no paper towels.

I had to wipe my face with my brand new dress shirt. I turned the knob and pushed against the bathroom door, but it wouldn’t open.

How could I be locked in the bathroom on a fucking plane?

I pushed against the door as hard as I could.

“ Can someone open the door please?” I yelled as I knocked furiously.

The door opened and the end of a large weapon hit me in the nose. I was immediately thrown to the ground. It was the lady in the cardigan. I looked up to see a plane full of frightened passengers.

“What the fuck!” I shouted.

“Shut up, pretty boy,” replied the lady in the cardigan.

I looked up once again to see the flight attendant standing side by side with the old Middle Eastern man. Wrapped around their torsos were multiple explosives

“No one move!” the old man shouted.

The flight attendant pulled out a small firearm from inside her jacket. She held the gun to a passenger’s head near the front of the plane.

“Lets make an example of someone,” she said.

“ Please, no, please. I have my baby on board!” shouted the woman.

The flight attendant shot the lady in the head twice. Blood from her head splattered onto her crying baby’s blanket. The whole plane sat in awe. Many passengers began to weep, others sat and prayed for mercy.

The lady in the cardigan released her grip and handcuffed me to a railing along the side of the bathroom door.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked.

“ You silly American’s just don’t get it do you” she replied.

“What is your name, and why are you doing this!” I shouted again.

“ My name is Eliza Kayed. That there is my Uncle Omar Kayed, and my sister Girma Kayed.”

Family of terrorists. Somehow my assumptions were right. As I sat there I wondered if this was really the end. I didn’t want to be the next passenger to be made example of. I began to think about my father. He was a CIA agent, before he was assassinated by a member of the Al Qaeda.

“ Nice to meet you Eliza, I’m Jack Mazzera Jr.” I said.

“ Jack Mazzera Jr? Son of Jack Mazzera Sr.?” she replied.

“ Yes, that’s my father, do you know him?” I asked.

“ The man you see standing up there killed him, he was one of the most dangerous CIA agents” she said.

I was looking at the man who killed my father. Now his objective was to kill everyone on this plane.

Whatever, just kill us.

I pretended that I didn’t actually care. I lived a fun 22 years of life anyway. In the corner of my eye I saw the frightened people. A tear began to form in my eye.

Stop yourself, it doesn’t matter

“We are taking this plane and crashing into Mount Rushmore” she exclaimed.

“ How far away are we?” I asked.

“ About an hour outside of North Dakota” she whispered.

I could see the fear in her eyes. She didn’t want to do this but she felt that it was best I guess.

“You know, I was born in Jerasulem, lived in Israel and Palestine,” she said as she eased her way down onto the ground next to me. “ Where are you from pretty boy?”

“I hail from the great Los Angeles, California.” I answered. “ Born and raised”

“ Why are you catching a plane in Oregon then?” she inquired.

“ Business to handle, I’m a business man.” I replied.

“ Hah, that’s cute, business man” she retorted.

She pulled a 357 magnum that was strapped to her ankle.

“ You ever believe in love at first sight?” she asked.

I sat there and pretended to think about an answer. I felt five bullets penetrate my chest and stomach. My vision was blurry, and there was blood everywhere. I wasn’t quite finised yet.

“ I do,” she said.

She pointed to magnum to her temple. Blood splattered on my face.