Джордан Шор - The Search

Why is he staring at me? Sir, put your seat belt on—we’re about to crash. He’s not moving. He’s in shock. Page thirty-seven of the employee manual states: Do not panic, sir. There’s no need to panic. Please remain calm. I hear my own voice. He’s still staring at me. He’s still in shock. Why? Oh no, I’m naked. Why did I forget to put on clothes this morning? Don’t cry. Right arm across chest. Left hand between thighs. Sir, put your seat belt on. And I thank you for not staring. Sandwich man looks across the aisle. He’s not wearing a seat belt. I hear a male voice.

There aren’t any passengers on the other side. All the seats are empty. No, wait. It’s him. I see him now. It’s Ivanhoe. And he’s looks so angry. Well, he’s a cat, so he doesn’t have to wear a seat belt . I hear my own voice. Why do you always have to look so angry, Ivan? It’s not my fault. I’m sorry, Ivan, but they told me it was the right thing to do. My own voice trembles. He jumps. His claw is in my eye. Help.

Susan Olsen woke up screaming and covered in sweat that morning, and she’d scratched herself just above her left eye. After a quick shower, it had been too late for her to go back to sleep. She’d used the extra time to prepare a large breakfast feast for her son to enjoy, but still leaving her with plenty of time to put on her clothes and makeup. And she had no trouble catching the train to her first shift ever as a flight attendant. Her shift had started at 3 p.m., so her mother had to pick up her son from school.

As Susan greeted the passengers for today’s last journey, she felt a tension in her chest. Even if the dream had faded away, the emotion hadn’t, and she sensed something was wrong. She gently stroked the skin above her left eyebrow, making sure the cut from her dreamy encounter with Ivanhoe hadn’t started bleeding again.

Ivanhoe wasn’t the same after suffering from meningitis. The cat was terrified of every movement. Whenever Susan had company, Ivan would hide under the bathtub, shaking in fear. The Persian cat was in desperate need of therapy, but instead he got a shot of toxin.

Susan Olsen always thought being a flight attendant would be a glamorous job, but so far, there was no glamour in it whatsoever. The cabin was noisy, the air was dry, her throat was sore, and her vocal cords were on fire. As encouraged by the flight menu, she made sure to drink plenty of water, hoping it would insure her a pleasant flight, but if anything, it seemed to do the opposite. The more water she drank, the worse she felt. She had a pounding headache, her face was hot and bloated, and her cheeks felt dry.

Where’s the glamour? She asked herself. Probably not in Anchorage. The Reindeer Motel certainly didn’t have a glamorous ring to it.

Susan’s throat had been sore to begin with, and saying the same mandatory phrase about one-hundred-eighty times made it even worse. As the second to last passenger boarded the plane, Susan was just about to say “welcome.” But as the incredibly handsome man gazed into her eyes, she felt overwhelmed and lost for words. She felt embarrassed, and she couldn’t help giggling as she broke eye contact.

Susan watched the handsome man walk down the aisle, and as he sat, their eyes met again. She made sure to smile once more, hoping he would notice. To her delight, the handsome man did notice, and once again, he gazed at her. This time, he appeared to be admiring her smile. She sneaked yet another glance at him, and made sure to smile as wide as possible, but then she felt embarrassed again, and diverted her gaze to the floor.

The last passenger to board the plane was the anticipated double-seater. As Susan mumbled the mandatory phrase for the last time, she reminded herself not to stare at the man, so once again she averted her eyes to the floor, but this time she didn’t smile.

Why would anyone do that to themselves?

Susan’s first customer when serving really provoked her. The young woman, who appeared to be in her early twenties, had purchased four blueberry-flavored muffins, which she minutes later exchanged for chocolate-flavored ones. However, it wasn’t the inconvenience of exchanging products that provoked Susan, it was rather the fact the woman (who appeared cut and pasted from a fashion magazine) seemingly could eat anything without gaining any unnecessary weight.

That’s so unfair.

For a brief moment, Susan considered asking the woman if she could be so polite as to enjoy her excessive amount of pastry in a secluded area, suggestively in one of the facilities in the back of the plane. And therefore, the rest of the people on this flight, could assume the woman was doing something entirely different than consuming a massive number of delicious calories. But for obvious reasons, Susan decided not to. Coincidentally, the provoking woman did go to the lavatory just a few minutes later.

To further add to Susan’s frustration, the handsome man who seemingly checked her out when boarding, and who she hoped to engage in conversation with while serving him, paid no further attention to her whatsoever. Instead, the handsome man devoted all his attention to the woman sitting a few rows behind him—who appeared cut and pasted from a different kind of magazine.

The woman’s makeup was excessive (but perfectly crafted), and her slim waist was about the same size as one of Susan’s thighs. The woman appeared to have surgically integrated a pair of floating devices where her breasts no doubt used to be. For a brief moment, Susan considered enlightening the handsome man, that he was probably a victim of fraud, as the objects in question, the ones he couldn’t take his eyes off, were most likely fake—as if that would’ve made a difference. But for obvious reasons, Susan decided not to say a word.

Her headache was just as tormenting as previously, and drinking water certainly didn’t help. If anything, it seemed to make it worse. She felt as if she could explode at any moment, and just then, she did.

“Sir, don’t write on the menu,” she said harshly.

Susan pointed to the back of the seat, and rolled her eyes in a condescending way.

“Use a napkin or something,” she added.

“I didn’t write that.” The man had startled look.

Susan responded by staring angrily.

“Seriously, those numbers were here when I sat down. I didn’t write that.” This time, the man had a look of innocence.

Susan thought the man looked sincere, and she was just about to apologize for her little outburst, when someone tapped her on the right shoulder.

“I think someone is having sex in the bathroom. There are two of them in there,” said a concerned female passenger.

Susan sighted and looked across the food cart.

“On your first day,” Craig said, and gesticulated, indicating that the event was taking place on her side of the food cart.

As Susan made her way down the aisle, she tried to remember what the employee manual stated regarding public fornication onboard a flying vessel.

“You’re breaking the law!” she yelled, and pounded the door with her fist. “What you’re doing is illegal!”

Susan felt all eyes were on her, judging her performance. Just as she was about to raise the lavatory sign and unlock the door, the door suddenly opened, and a man emerged with his eyes focused on the floor as he quickly made his way up the aisle. Susan froze when she saw the other man. The man had a blank look, his face was plastered with hostility, and his hair was as dark as his eyebrows. The man mumbled a few words she didn’t understand before he returned to his seat with his head held high.

Again, Susan felt a tension in her chest, and she sensed something was wrong. She checked the bathroom briefly before she rushed back to alert Craig. However, Craig just smiled and winked at her. But when Susan pointed out that both of the participants were men and suggested he should alert the captain, Craig’s smile vanished, and he was obviously offended.