Leaving On A Jet Plane

Her jeans were ripped.

Of all the pants that she had, that she could have worn today, she just had to pick the ripped ones.

She stuck her finger in the rip, pulling at the fraying white threads. Pulling them out one by one, like she wished to pull out her own hair at this moment.

“Miss? Could you put your legs down please? We’re going to ask that everyone puts on their seatbelts now, we’re preparing for takeoff.”

She sat up, stretching out her legs as best as she could in the cramped area. The old man beside her snorted in his slumber as she clumsily bounced around. She just couldn’t seem to get comfortable, the chairs were too stiff, she had too many things out and around her, the cords from her headset were tangled up with her. Barely even an hour here and she had succeeded in completely trashing her sitting area for the next six hours.

Tidying up the best she could, she flumped back down into her seat. A twinkle of dust slowly moved through the rays of the sun shining through her window. It was a small window, barely big enough to look through, and even if she could have, she doubted she would.

Looking at what you were trying so hard to leave wasn’t always the best idea. It made her think of the bible story where Lot’s wife is told not to look back at their city when they run away, yet she looks back, and is turned into a pillar of salt. Jill didn’t exactly desire to turn into salt right now as she was on a salt-free diet.

So, she went back to picking at the rip, concentrating all of her frustrations on it. An announcement went through the crowded second-class, they would be taking off soon, please secure all items… blah blah blah. Again the old man snorted. Jill looked over in his direction. Typical business traveler, crumpled suit, casual tie, laptop case. His gray hair was balding to the point where it almost didn’t make sense to keep the miniscule amount there, might as well be completely bald. His eyeglasses were smudged and bent out of shape. He wore them with a certain sense of dignity, yet, he too looked afraid. She could sense it in the way he had curled himself up into a half fetal-position, the way he seemed tense, rigid in his seat. He couldn’t have been very old, even though from that day on she would refer to him as “the old man,” possibly in his mid-forties.

He twitched again and frightened her. She had not noticed how intently she had been studying him, possibly trying to fill her head with thoughts other then those of what she was truly doing at this moment.

She reached into her worn and tattered book bag, moving aside the ‘provisions’ and the blanket and pulled out her old Discman. Plugging in the headset that was meant to watch the movie with, she blasted it as loud as it would go.

Like studying the old man, the music always took away from her thoughts, always took her to another place like she was hoping this airplane would, always distracted her from life.

" If you believe it's in my soul, I'd say all the words that I know. Just to see if it would show, that I'm trying to let you know, that I'm better off on my own." *

She cozied up into her seat, lying on her side, facing towards the window, but refusing to look out it. The music’s sad tune lulled her, calmed her nerves and helped in chocking back her tears.

And when the plane lifted up off the ground, just like Lot’s wife, Jill dared to glance one final look back. That’s when she saw him running along-side the plane, chasing her, holding onto her with all his might.

Jill would rather turn to salt then turn back now.
*sum41 - peices

Read What Happens After.