Air Pressure!!

There are two types of silence in this world. One, in which you hear nothing. stillness. The other is in which you hear every one's voice, whispering, all around you. It is quite similar to passive smoking. You inhale everyone's suggestions, ideas, advices, quarrels, love troubles. All types of stories mix up with your own as you try to turn page of that stupid '100 ways to do something great' book that you picked at the airport because your boss wanted you to read it, most probably because that was the only book he had read after becoming your boss.

I was seated somewhere in middle of that airplane. The blinding glare of right wing had already compelled me to half close the shutter of that small window. There was not much to see outside of that window anyway. I have always observed that clouds are more interesting from ground than they are from 30000ft. While I am looking up at them they fuse and diffuse into all kinds of shape but while looking down I just find white sea, shapeless.

There was nothing much interesting inside the plane too. To my left was an ugly mulatto girl who was feigning sleep just to crawl over me every now and then. This was also the reason I had kept the window shutter half open, so that I can direct my attention outward whenever the need arises.

The air hostesses were also a disappointing lot. They were the reason I had picked up this airplane for travel, even though fare was a bit over reimbursable limit according to my company policy. Their brochure flaunted many blondes in red dress. Hope, of a madman, to spot at least one desirable woman among this crowd had clouded my decision. In reality, most of these hostess girls were in their early twenties. They wore white shirts, red skirt and some of them had red jackets on. All of them had small firm breasts, their skin tanned and hair pulled back. Maybe as a teenager I would have found them attractive but somehow today I did not.

So as this relatively boring flight, attained relatively boring height a not so unusual fear grew inside me. What if we were to hit a bird (or superman) and explode in sky? If I were to imagine such a situation while lying on my bed, as I presently am, I would have definitely thought like this - "How will I be remembered if I died? How will people whom I love feel? will they be able to live without me? Oh my God, I don't want to die". However, at 30000ft none of this occurred to me. Somehow, this fear elevated my desperation to find a "desirable" woman, whom I could hold tightly as the plane explodes.

My brilliant thought process was suddenly interrupted by an explosion of another kind. It seems that the lunch served by the undesirable hostess wasn't well accepted by my stomach. As this monstrous metallic bird dived in and out of the clouds, the frequent explosions inside resulted in frothing outside. Now, before any of my ugly co travellers could acknowledge this by sound or smell, I had to run to the toilet. Yes! The seatbelt sign was on. If I go down with pale face, the hostess would not trouble me with questions but the source of unpleasant scent would be well established in the plane. So I walked up to the toilet door, with my little finger scratching inside of my ear - as if air pressure has numbed by hearing senses. The hostess was also too lazy (undesirable) to shout more than once. I slowly turned the little handle and I was inside. Heaven!