Flight 505

The final boarding call for Lacsa flight 505 from San Jose, Costa Rica to JKF International Airport in New York sounded just before I took my seat in Row 21. The captain speaks on the loud speaker “ Good evening ladies and gentlemen, our estimated travel time is approximately five hours. Due to Tropical Storm Fay we anticipate some mild turbulence as we cross over Florida, but it should not be much. Enjoy your flight and thank you for flying Lacsa airlines”. I closed my eyes and lay back.
I’m jolted awake, my book crashes into my lap as the stewardess rushes to place all trays in the upright position. The plane is unsteady and I look around and notice fear visibly resonating on the passenger’s faces. Next to me a mother grows more and more distressed, she’s unable to quell the cries of her infant child. She wails louder and louder, the mother cradles the child back and forth to counter the unbalanced rhythm of the plane. A few seats ahead a slack jawed woman in cabana wear puts her hands over her head and then down between her legs as if practicing for an air raid drill. The plane dips, I swallow my heart, shaking I reaching into my pocket to pull out a few pieces of nicorette. A woman screams out, another begins to cry softly, a business man curses his company. A priest from the back row stands up and begins praying in spanish, others around him join in. Their prayers are interrupted by gasps and exhalations, they’re determined to continue. Toward the back an overhead compartment door bursts open, luggage rains down upon the food cart, stewardesses take cover as utensils and soda cans spray outward haphazardly. An elderly woman from the front row falls out of her seat, failing to buckle her belt in time. Someone rushes to her aid but is thrown off balance and slides back on the floor. He struggles to get up, I contemplate helping but I do nothing. Cell phones are reached for, nervous fingers text, spanish blares out all around me. I pump my leg and chew more nicorette and begin to think about the worst. The plane drops again, the woman next to me looses consciousness and her infant is left unattended. I pick up the infant from her lap and hold her, I’ve never held a baby before. The child stares blankly at me, I become envious of her ignorance, she has no idea of the severity of the situation. A sudden bump, the plane stops rocking, the priest stops praying. Everyone looks around, hesitant to smile at first. Relief, a voice sounds on the loudspeaker, “ladies and gentleman this is your captain speaking, we have passed the through the reach of the storm and would like to thank you for your cooperation, we anticipate a smooth flight for the remaining time, thank you for flying Lacsa, the national airlines of Costa Rica, enjoy your flight”.

Target:
When I was fifteen I was caught shoplifting a Stone Roses c.d. from Target in Valley Stream. It was an easy enough system, find what c.d. or dvd that you wanted, walk around with said item and open it while you went up and down the aisles. When you got the case open you placed the disc into your pocket, ditch the case, no ones the wiser. On this particular day I placed the Stones Roses c.d. into my side pocket and walked toward the door. I noticed that there was a man in a red shirt following me as I headed toward the front. He was on a radio and stated “I got him” as we walked. I knew it was up then, but continued forth. As I stepped on the carpet near the automated doors, he placed his hand on my shoulder and asked for the c.d.. I gave it to him, my friend kept walking outside and I was escorted into the security center.
The room was asylum white with small, fuzzy black and white security monitors positioned along the walls. I was instructed to sit and place all my possessions on the table in front of me and wait with my hands visible. The chair was metal and had a pair of long chained handcuffs attached to the leg. I was introduced to a man named Archie, who told me that he was in charge of in store security and usually walked around the store, undercover, looking for shoplifters. I explained to him that I was a minor and Archie informed me that since I was underage there was no need to contact the police, unless we could not get in touch with one of my parents. Luckily my mother had a cell phone and Archie allowed me to call her instead of him. While we waited for my mothers arrival we talked about sports.
I told him that I was a student at Holy Trinity High School in Hicksville and played on the basketball team. We discussed how the Knicks lacked proper management and the beauty of Alan Houston’s jump shot. When my mother arrived he explained to her that I was the politest shoplifter he ever came across, he was used to violent outbursts and tantrums as they explained in vain why they were innocent. He took my picture and printed out a form that I had to sign that banned me from the store and gave me a copy.