I had almost forgotten this comical situation.
After we had been flying for almost an hour, our plane had to turn around due to a "malfunction." So, on the second flight down to Quito, we were finally given something to eat.
It was on this flight that I encountered quite a connection with humanity. It was as if the lady next to me was the incarnate of myself. I intently gazed on the flight attendants for thirty minutes straight, waiting for my food. Each aisle that they edged closer dragged on my patience even more. I didn't wish to miss a beat, lest I fell asleep waiting for them to come, and quite the sorry sort I would have been had that been the case.
I could have solved the problem of poor patience by not giving anyone any option of "chicken or beef" and just giving everyone pasta. Pasta it would have been for my plane, and besides, meat on planes is freaky. You are telling me this is chicken. This isn't some restaurant, I know, but a load of stringy carbs would have suited me just fine. Socialistic Pasta, what an excellent idea!
I preoccupied myself, through my peripheral, by counting the number of times the lady in the seat next to me heavily swung her head as she was drowsing off into a deep slumber. Back and forth, back and forth, and quite violently, too. Quite the slumbering pendulum she was!
Ah, "chicken or beef," no, you aren't on the vegetarian list, so here's some chicken.
But, a meal is a meal for me. The notion of this delicious meal from a ravenous being was feasting over in my mind as I carefully cut a chunk out of my chicken. Everything else a blur, but the chicken so clearly detailed, was in slow motion, the angels were singing the Hallelujah chorus, I could clearly see the individual prongs on my fork making their utilitarian way to greet my taste buds and satisfy my angst. I could almost see clearly now, my prospects were looking up, I would survive. And then...
Incredible, the timing on this, just as the feast met my mouth, the prongs still deeply embedded, the lady, who had been swinging her head for quite some time, landed heavily on my lower arm! Awkward, so I carefully propped her so she was sitting straight once again. Chicken, Hallelujah, prongs, AND crash! Again, onto my shoulder, so I figured I would just let her hang on my shoulder for awhile. And then I realized that her husband was sitting next to her. He tapped her, patted her, shook her hand that had gone completely limp. "Oh dear, she's dead. She died, and she died on my bony shoulder; maybe it was my shoulder that killed her. Pulse? Yes, okay, maybe just gave her a concussion."
As I proceeded to indulge and demolish my banquet of chicken, I reflected on how humanity needs to rest, and how, almost infant-like, we revert to a childish manor in everyone needing tender care, a shoulder to rest on. So, if that is what it took, my shoulder to provide comfort to this stranger, then so be it. I might, in fact, one day need a stranger's shoulder as well. This whole scenario could have been on an Oppenheimer Funds commercial when one person sees another person do something kind for humanity and then returns the favor, the cycle.
The woman slept peacefully on my shoulder, and I thought to myself, "I would have wanted my mom to sleep on my shoulder, and this woman is someone's mother." Though, I wouldn't exactly want my own mum to go falling asleep on completely random stranger's shoulders. After twenty minutes of mulling over this in my mind, afraid to move and awake this lady and cause an awkward situation, she violently sat up, and as if someone had caught her doing something funny on video, thus was her response. She started giggling, and apologizing, well, maybe, I guess. She was Korean so I couldn't really understand. And then we smiled at each other, in understanding, though we did not speak the same language. Humanity does. So thus spake humanity.
Going vegetarian next time. Hope the turnout provides the same satisfactory level of amusement.
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