I tipped up my fedora and glanced out the plane’s window…
Give me a million bucks and I still couldn’t name the mountains and valleys that reached out to the horizon. I did remember something hazy before I’d nodded off, something that the co-pilot had announced. Something about reaching cruising altitude over human history.
To the left, we could see Stonehenge, to the right the mountains of empires. Truth is, I don’t gawk. There’s always work to do.
The seatbelt sign was still lit, but I took mine off anyway. As I shuffled past my neighbor to get to the aisle I could sense his consternation. He thought I was getting away with something, that I was breaking the rules.
But I don’t have time to make my neighbors happy; I have work to do. This time, I was going to go all the way.
I marched squarely up to the first flight attendant, a red head with a red smile. I gave her my look: the one that none of them could resist. Most said I reminded them of a guy they knew.
I disagree. I remind me of myself.
She smiled. “Sir, you’ve got to take your seat.”
“Tom Ball, Air Marshall.”
This time I was sleuthing in my own right, but I didn’t add that. The red head smiled. I liked it.
I dipped my fedora slightly. She didn’t ask me anything further, but the others did.
Every thousand feet or so, I was stopped by another attendant and then another. After a few miles or so I was fed up with explaining. I just hung my badge down from my neck. Back then, I thought it would take me a few days to reach the cockpit, and I couldn’t be bothered to explain every time.
It was only as I approached the border for business class that I came across Tim Bull, a private gumshoe employed by some stiff in first class. Two to one, Tim would have an angle about my investigation. Hundred to one, he kept it mum.
“Heya, Tim.”
“Heya, Tom.”
“Don’t suppose professional courtesy would warrant a tip.”
“Yeah,” Tim smiled like a dog with dentures. “Stay out of my way. I got work to do.”
The hoodlum. “Bye, Tim.” I tipped my fedora.
“Never a pleasure, Tom.”
There were a lot of rumors been going around about our destination. Some folks said it was on autopilot. Others complain there ain’t no pilot up there at all. Most folks just look out the window to gawk at the pretty things.
Me? I don’t much care. I got a job to do, that’s all.
It figures that it was only a mile later that I come across Tammy Bell. She was a knockout, but she was nobody’s fool. She knew her way around this plane more than Tim or I or anyone else. We'd flirted before but it was nothing too serious. She was like me. We had work to do. You had to respect a girl like that.
“Heya, Tammy.”
“Heya, Tommy.”
“Whatchya know about the destination?”
“Some folks say it’s just outside Ypsilanti.” She smiled that smile that she had. She knew what it did to me.
But I had work to do. “Just outside Ypsilanti, eh? Maybe, maybe.”
“You tell that pilot hi if you ever see him, get me?”
“Sure thing, Tammy, sure thing.”
I could never quite tell if Tammy was mocking me or asking me out.
It was chilly in first class. It always was this time of year. Only the rich could afford snow from the real snow clouds just out the window. They’d send their flight attendants just out the window to gather it for them. Then they’d take it any way they wanted: slushie, snow cone, you name it. There was nothing you couldn’t order up in first class, including things of dubious legality. I generally hightailed it through there as fast as my feet could trample. You know, finish my business and get back to my seat.
But this time a wild-eyed stiff jumped right out of his seat and into my way.
“Mr. Ball, I presume?” He combed his wild white hair back into a bigger mess than it had been before.
“Who's asking?”
He smiled. “I was previously employing the services of a Ms. Tammy Bell. A remarkable mind, Sir, remarkable. She may the brightest mind on this flight, she may well be.”
“She might be.” And I meant it.
“It was because of Ms. Bell that I was expecting your arrival. She did me the courtesy of predicting where and when you might be coming down the aisle. You see that was a great service to me because I otherwise can be so caught up in my work.”
He didn’t look the type to be working on anything. “What work is that?”
“To the point, Mr. Ball, to the point! I value that highly in a man of your profession. Yes, what work indeed. What work does William Timothy busy himself with? Because that is my name, Mr. Ball, I am Sir Dr. William Timothy.”
“And?” I was about to bypass this old crackpot. I didn’t have time for this.
“What do you make of these?” William Timothy whipped out stacks of napkins doodled with dozens of numbers. If I’d guessed he was nuts before, now I was sure of it.
“I think you ought to invest in a legal pad, Doc.”
William laughed more than I trusted. “Indeed, Sir, a fine observation! Quite droll. But do come and see.” He motioned me to the window.
“I’m no gawker,” I said.
“Yet you want to know where we’re going, am I correct? And if you were to gawk a little more, sir, you would see these amazing lines that stretch out along the vast plains below. These lines and curves mean something, Sir. I am convinced of it and with Ms. Bell’s help I had started to decipher them. We had produced a plethora of formulae, all valid, which had used these enormous marks on the plains as our starting points. When Ms. Bell departed we had nearly deduced a destination. Think of it, Sir! A foolproof answer: As if you yourself were the Pilot! It’s what you’ve come up here to find, is it not?”
It was no mystery why Tammy had left this guy in the dust. He was loopier than a hornet with one wing. But how did he know so much about me? It didn’t seem like Tammy to blabber all kinds of information, especially to a stiff like him.
I nearly shoved him aside, but I figured I could spare one more question. “Okay, Bill Tim, ask your question–shoot.”
“Ah, Mr. Ball, ever blunt. Sir, I need your input about these mysterious lines on the plain.”
“Why me?”
“They say there is a very thriving oral tradition in the hindmost sections of this flight. And no one from those regions ever makes it so far up to the first classes. No one except you, Mr. Ball. It is that badge you carry, Sir. It makes you an excellent mediator. But I’m told that in coach the people hold onto a thriving collective memory. You may consider them just stories, but tell me, Mr. Ball, what can you recall about where we have come from? It is utmost of importance to my calculations.”
I cocked my head at the stiff. Now I understood what Tammy had told me. “I don’t know. Maybe Ypsilanti?”
“Ypsilanti, sir? Why that’s impossible!”
"Or maybe you could consult the Gideon manual?" I smiled.
William didn’t smile. “Are you mocking me, Sir? That is a very dangerous thing to do.”
I shoved past the old stiff and kept walking toward the cockpit. Old Billy Tim spilled his napkins everywhere trying to run me down, but being an Air Marshall has its perks. I found a few flight attendants and had them attend to him. As for me, I kept walking down that aisle toward the cockpit.
But as I walked, I got tired. I'd spent a good sixty years walking up and down these aisles. I’m tired. I took an empty seat to gawk at the view. As I gawked, I scribbled my story down on one of these napkins the attendants keep bringing us. But I'm tired, and I think I could go for some shuteye, but if you’re reading this then odds are we haven’t landed yet. And if you want to know where we’re headed, I’ll tell you what I think. It’s probably just outside of Ypsilanti.
- - -
You sigh after finishing the scribbled story, then you pull out the Gideon manual from the seat back pocket. Of course, every seat in the plane has a Gideon manual standard. It claims to know who the Pilot is, where you are going. Things like that.
But it is simple stuff for kids. Too easy. Just the sort of thing a chump would go for.
Not you.
I have been pondering this over the last few days. We recently got back from a big trip that involved international flights, so I could feel the tension in the story. I also like the thread that we are all on a story and know that on some level, but constantly forget that fact and our destination.