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I nod.
And then we wait. Being in the first boarding group isn’t all it’s cracked up to be because we get to sit here and ruminate while everyone else gets on the plane. And it’s a really big plane.
Once everyone has boarded, a flight attendant shuts the door.
The plane begins to taxi.
My heartbeat races, and sweat beads on my forehead. I try to take a breath in, but it’s shaky. I hold on to Dave’s hand for dear life and bury the other one deep into my armrest, my knuckles white.
The flight attendants’ voices, first in French and then in English, are garbled. Jumbled noise coming at me yet going through me.
Taxi, taxi, taxi…
And then I brace myself as the plane accelerates…
“Everything’s okay,” Dave says above the roar of the engines.
Still, I’m freaked, and when the plane first lifts from the ground, I have to force down nausea.
Then Dave, jovial Dave, leans over to me. “We can always join the mile high club.”
And I feel better. So much better.
Not that I want to join the mile high club. Airplane bathrooms are so small and kind of gross.
I close my eyes then. Try to still the beating of my heart as I swallow down the queasiness.
To my surprise, the nausea stays down, and within a few moments we’re airborne and leveling out.
I don’t dare look out my window. In fact, I wish Dave and I had traded seats so he was by the window.
I close the shade.
I close my eyes again.
Send out good vibes to the universe or God or whomever that the plane will safely bring us home to Colorado.
Half an hour later, Dave nudges me. “They’re coming around with cocktail orders. Do you want something?”
“I didn’t look at the menu.”
“Take a look now, or just order whatever you want.”
I blink. “I’d love a sidecar.”
“Good enough.”
When the flight attendant gets to us, Dave orders. “I’ll have a Knob Creek, neat, and the lady would like a sidecar.”
“Have you made your selections for your dinner yet?” she asks.
Dinner, right. I haven’t looked at that menu either.
“Maddie?” he asks.
“I’m sorry. I haven’t looked at the menu. Could you just tell me what there is?”
“Of course, mademoiselle. We have a lovely boeuf bourguignon or a chicken Cordon Bleu.”
