Sid squirmed in his royal blue faux leather seat. He was waiting for the airline attendant strapped into the flight seat near the cockpit. Sid looked up at the attendant and then down at the tray table in front of him. The bumps seemed light to delay meal service. He barely secured two vodka sodas before the turbulence kicked in. He was eager to order another one.
When he boarded the plane, the flight attendant took his order as soon as he sat down, and Sid requested a mixed salad with burrata. He was excited about the new menu, inspired by a famous international chef, though he couldn’t remember who. It was always refreshing when they changed the menu.
The first-class cabin was dark, except for monitors flashing TV shows and movies. It was an entertainment center floating over the Pacific Ocean.
Sid closed his eyes and put on his noise-canceling headphones. He thought about sleeping. When Sid was seven years old at Cub Scout camp, he learned how to fall asleep. He was curled up crying in a tent, missing the comforts of home, and an annoyed scout leader advised Sid how to fall asleep. He said to think about nothing. The moment you think about nothing—you’ll be asleep. But Sid wanted to stay half-awake to not miss out on the burrata, so he let his mind wander.
The flight attendant tapped Sid’s shoulder. Mr. Jones, here’s your burrata salad. She set it on the tray table in front of him. Would you like another vodka soda? Yes, Sid requested. Make it a double.
Sid opened the can of soda water and poured it into a glass filled with ice. He opened one Bombay Gin shooter bottle and poured it in. He took a chug and looked at the burrata curiously. He had never eaten burrata before. Sid had seen burrata on restaurant menus, but he did not know what it was or how to pronounce it. He avoided ordering out at restaurants so he didn’t embarrass himself.
He stared at his plate. This was not what he expected it to look like—a wet white blob. He took another drink.
Sid slid up the window visor. Blackness—up and down, left and right—except for flashing red and green lights from the wings many rows behind. Sid looked out and couldn’t see any stars in the sky. He thought the stars would be easier to see floating some 40,000 feet above the ocean, far away from the city lights. But it was just black.
Another bump of turbulence hit. This time stronger. Enough for Sid to grab his drink to make sure it didn’t spill. The burrata jiggled.
Sid picked up a chrome-coated plastic knife and cut the burrata in half. He watched the insides melt out. He poked one half and took a bite. Not bad, he thought. Sid decided he liked burrata. With one more bite, he finished it.
Sid poured the rest of the soda water into the melting ice in his glass. He screwed open the aluminum lid on the second Bombay Gin shooter and poured it in. He took a chug. He closed the window visor. He felt his cheeks warm.
Sid looked ahead at the 15-inch screen. It showed a 3D image of the plane and its flight path, directly between Asia and the Americas. Sid thought that if there was an emergency, there would be nowhere to land. Perhaps Hawaii or Alaska. Or some Pacific islands with landing strips.
Sid put on his headphones, thought about nothing, and fell asleep.
***
The folding sides on the headrest kept Sid’s head from rolling on the adjacent passengers. Sid looked down, and there was spittle on his crewneck sweater. But he hadn’t slept.
The man next to him tapped his shoulder. He communicated through his eyes that he needed to use the restroom.
Sid nudged the woman sitting to his right. She stood up, followed by Sid. Sid decided to stand in the aisle and wait for the man to return. The woman sat back down in the aisle seat.
In the aisle, Sid could see the back of everyone’s heads in the main cabin. The heads were looking at flashing monitors or phones held to their faces.
A gray-haired woman immediately below him, in aisle 52 column C, scrolled on her iPhone. She was watching a video of people falling off ladders. She laughed when they fell. She watched the video four times. Then she scrolled to the next video. The next video was a man jumping shirtless into a frozen lake. Then he gave a big thumbs up. She watched the video two times. Then she scrolled to the next.
The woman to his right was watching an angry man talking directly to her on a streaming news channel. She listened intently. The man next to her was watching a snowman dancing in an animated cartoon. Live news, sports, cartoons, sitcoms, and movies flashed inches in front of the passengers’ noses. But Sid didn’t want to watch anything.
An overhead light shined down a few rows up the aisle. Sid wondered what they were reading.
Sid surveyed the dimensions of the steel tube he was standing in. The width of a 757’s main cabin is 11.7 feet, with six people in a row. Sid’s bedroom in his single-room apartment is 11 feet wide and 13 feet long. In that amount of space on the plane, he estimated there were around 36 people. Sid imagined 36 people in his bedroom.
The man returned. The woman sitting in the aisle stood up and let the man and Sid in, and Sid sat back down.
Sid put his tray table down. The flight attendant was ten rows ahead with the cart slowly moving down the aisle. Sid tapped the gray tray table.
The plane bumped. A ding rang over the speakers and signaled everyone to take their seats.
Sid touched the screen in front of him. The plane was somewhere over Nebraska. It was traveling at 550 mph at 32,000 feet.
Sid closed his eyes. The plane bumped again. He wondered how much turbulence it would take to rock the plane enough to snap off one of the wings.
Sid put on my headphones and tried to think about nothing.
But Sid couldn’t think about nothing.
He was thinking about the burrata.
Sid looked back at the monitor ahead of him. Two dings sounded over the speakers.
Sid closed his eyes.
He imagined the plane slamming into a Nebraskan cornfield.
Then, Sid thought, he could think about nothing. Then he could fall asleep.