I'll preface this by saying that there's a good chance I'm going to sound like a big 'o racial profiling Bia...however, I truly thought I was going down in a plane last Tuesday night somewhere between Dallas and Sacramento, so I'm just going to tell it like it is...
For the most part I'm a pretty good flyer; don't usually get anxious, sick, etc. Last Tuesday? Different story. I booked my travel relatively last-minute and was stuck in a middle seat. It was an exit row, so that helped. Until I sat down next to my neighbor. Right before we left he called someone and left a message, in broken English, that went something like this: "Natifa, it's {indecipherable name}. It's 4:16 on October 25. I'm leaving Dallas, Texas for Sacramento, California. The plane is taking off now." Alright. I admit that in it's written form, that might not sound all that scary. In fact, it sort of sounds like the dude was giving someone his flight info. HOWEVER. At the time it sounded to me like, "Hi Natifa, I'm calling to confirm that I'm on the flight from Dallas to Sacramento where I'm going to blow $h!t up."
It wasn't just the phone call that set me off. It was him pulling out his plane tickets – from an envelope labeled "Mark Charles" – and looking at them over and over again. And how the soles of his shoes were a good 3 inches thick (bomb, anyone?). And how his beanie stuck up just enough for something dangerous to be hiding in there. And how even five minutes after the flight attendant told everyone to turn off all electronic devices, he was still typing cryptically into his phone. And how he kept looking out the window and to his back.
Despite my best efforts, neither flight attendant seemed to notice my eyes bugging out of my head and darting from them to the gentleman beside me as they did their final round of "electronics off" checking. When the flight attendant asked if everyone sitting in the exit row was willing to help in case of an emergency, I seriously considered saying I wasn't feeling up to it, but then I decided he'd see right through me and make me a target later. So I shook my head yes. From there, I proceeded to take my scarf off and put it in my purse. If this shizzle was going down, he was either going to use whatever he was storing under his beanie or the explosives in his jacket - not because he strangled me with my own scarf.
At this point – in case you hadn't connected the dots – I was completely wigging out. Seriously feeling nauseous, heart-racing, maybe going to faint, probably going to die. This is also about the time the captain says that because of strong head winds we'll probably be in the air an extra 40 minutes. Thus, making the total trip length 4+ hours. Awesome.
Eventually I decide that there is nothing for me to do, so if I can fall asleep (which, amazingly, I seem to be able to do – even when crazy stuff is happening), I should. So I do. A good couple hours later, I wake up. Which means I'm still alive. Excellent news.
At this point I'm not feeling much more calm because I figure if smack is going down it's going down a good bit into the flight. So I pull my laptop out and decide to work to distract myself. As long as my little friend sits still, everything is fine. But then he asks to get up. Are you sure you need to go to the bathroom? Maybe you could actually just hold it?
Long story not-so-short, I'm here so obviously didn't go down in the plane. Again, excellent news. Although I see the comedy in it now I was seriously freaking out; feeling bad for my mom, who'd be down one kid; wondering if I'd be able to take the guy or if I'd freeze and freak-out, etc. Not cool.
In other news, I think an ex-NBA player was sitting in the exit row on the other side. He looked familiar, was about 7 feet tall, and had a giant (championship?) ring on his right hand, which literally spanned the entire length of his tray table. Oh, I also think I heard the guy next to him talking with him about basketball. Being the cool, collected, and classy girl I am, I snapped a picture of him from behind once we were off the plane. Which basically makes him unidentifiable in any way. Buuuut, if you have any guesses let me know.
