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The trip back home was mostly uneventful. The line ups were small, and I had to give my check in baggage to the security desk because it was a soft container (my travel bag). Apparently only hard objects were allowed through the regular check-in methods as softer objects would get damaged. Nice to know.
I waited in the waiting room until the last possible minute. I knew that the airplane would be stuffy before the flight, and the less time I spent on the airplane the better it was for me. While I was waiting, some black guy sat down next to me and asked,
"So you going to Vancouver too?"
Huh? Uhh, no. I explained that I was on the other flight and he was telling me that he was allowed to enter the gate even though it was still two hours until his flight. I took a look at his departure time and wondered why they let him in so early?
But it was not my problem, so I got on to the plane.
I walked to my aisle seat which seemed to be part of the three chairs in the middle of the airplane. The flight was full, so I was not surprised to see two guys sitting in the other two seats. What did surprise me was seeing them holding hands.
*shrug*
To each their own. I put my carry on luggage away and took my seat. I could see out of the corner of my eye that the guy sitting next to me was looking in my direction every now and then. When I took a look at him, I could see that he was quite agitated. He asked the steward if he could hold his hand when the plane took off, and the steward told him that he would be sitting in the aisle seat (for the stewards and stewardesses) which was basically right next to me. He reassured the guy by taking his hand and telling him that everything would be alright, "I promise" and went on to do other duties.
This calmed the guy down for a bit, but not for long. When the engines started up, I smelt exhaust, and the guy next to me did too and inquired to the steward about the noxious odour. He told the guy that it was normal, so I went back to trying to get some sleep.
When the plane started to taxi, the guy got a lot more agitated and asked me if I could hold his hand. Uhh.. I could not come up for an excuse not to, and he looked utterly helpless so I grabbed on to his hand. After a couple of minutes, he asked me,
"Can you hold it tighter?"
Uhh.. okay. I squeezed his hand a little tighter. Throughout the takeoff, he would continue asking me to explain certain noises and movements of the plane during takeoff. I told him that it was all normal and that everything would be okay. I tried to explain that most of the movement and noise was due to the wind, and made it sound so technical that it sounded like I knew what I was talking about. (I did not.) This seemed to reassure him and it calmed him down for a several minutes.
In the back of my mind, there was a small part of me that wanted to play a trick, and respond with a,
"We are all going to die!!!"
and see how he would react to that. I did not want to get killed or give someone else a heart attack though, and refrained.
Once we reached cruising altitude, he was able to function again without me holding onto his hand. I figured that everything would be good at that point and I wanted to read that book girl gave me and take a nap. Well, I did read a bit but every now and then, the plane would hit a tiny little bit of turbulence which would cause the plane to move or make a noise. Each time that happened, the guy would turn to me and ask me what that was, and I would try to explain as detached and monotonically as I possibly could just to calm him down. However my explanations are usually not enough and he asked,
"Can I put my hand on your leg?"
Again, he looked so helpless. His eyes were as large a saucers! If I were a girl, or if he looked gay, I would have been extremely wary, but it did not seem to be the case, and I could not come up with an excuse otherwise so I told him it was alright.
Guh, I knew I was not getting any sleep after that.
Well, to make a long flight short, as we were getting ready for the final approach, the guy went all mental again. He continued to barrage me with questions and I tried to explain where all the noises were from: the wind, the flaps, the landing gear, etc. Eventually, I asked him why he was so scared, and he told me,
"I am afraid of heights."
Oh. Well that makes a lot of sense now. It explained why his companion kept telling him not to look out the window. As we came down on the final approach, he needed his hand held again, and I talked him down:
".. You are going to feel a shudder because the landing gear are coming out, the plane is going to shake a bit. When we touch down, there will be a big shake.."
Which stopped when we touched down. The moment the wheels hit the ground, he turned into a completely different person. In fact, he became normal.
He thanked both me and the steward and I shrugged. Another successful flight.
