The voice droned on unceasingly and with the sun shining on my face If I closed my eyes I could almost imagine the sound to be waves crashing against some distant shore line.  However, as my grasp on mental images was always tenuous at best it was not long before the reality of my situation intruded.  I was not in a hotel looking out toward the beach I was trapped.

In a window seat on a Boeing 737 in its fifth hour of flight.  I had already gone through my magazines, twice, had given up on the crap in flight movie they were offering today, and even with my shade pulled there was way too much light for any real sleep.  And so I was once again up the proverbial creek without my trusty paddle.

Planes really are amazing aren’t they…I mean think about it just over 100 years ago no one even believed flight was possible…thank you physics…and now we have even flown off the planet…

Shit.  Focus.  I have to find something to keep my mind busy.  My slightly agitated neck crane seems to have disturbed Mr. WayTooMuchCologne oh well salvation is on its way.  Ah you lovely woman in the tacky blue stewardess outfit, outwardly I smile.  “Yes, I would love two vodka cocktails, a cranberry juice, a vegetarian meal, and the largest chocolate snack you offer.”

“Miss?”

Crap.  Must have ordered to fast, or too much, or maybe it was too much smile.  Try again.  “Oh,” sad face, “sorry I’m a nervous eater slash drinker keeps my mind off the turbulence and my faulty understanding of the Bernoulli principle.”  Didn’t mean to say that last part.  Try the smile now, maybe.

“I understand miss.  Only one drink at a time though, catch me on the way back down the aisle if you haven’t changed your mind,” she even gave me the co-conspirator wink as she handed over the food and beverages.

I sigh to myself ignoring the two people sharing my row, think what you will this should shut stupid Fred out.

Can’t shut me out little lady…like to see you try…I just talk louder so as to be heard over your impression of a cow chewing cud…what would your father say if…

With the pop of the juice can I feel him receding.  I put in my headphones and zone out to very loud angry music while I munch contentedly.  I can hardly remember a time when I didn’t have to work to be alone with my thoughts.  Teachers all thought is was “the ADHD”, and my born again paternal grandmother was sure it was demons, but mom and I knew better.  It was my distraction, it never told me to do bad things or even good things, it was just a constant albeit one-sided conversation going on in my head, but since it had never cause me to act deranged she had decided to leave the doctor’s and the homes out of it.

This meant that I was never officially the crazy girl, thanks Mom, but it also meant I had to learn how to drown it out on my own.  So I stayed busy, crazy busy, and was intolerable to everyone when quite waiting was necessitated.  However, lately I felt like I had no thoughts of my own they were all his, having just leaked out from his narration into my sentences and dreams.

I pulled off my headphones and looked over at Cologne who had just tapped my shoulder.  “Yes, can I help you?”  I said it in a way that did not suggest helpfulness as I turned down my music.

“Were you listening to that the whole time?”

“Yeah,” I felt there should have been red flashing warning signs going off, “why?”

“Well I was going to say that while the story was interesting I really need to get back to my work now, but, ah, is this some kind of a joke or something?”

“Must have been the vodka,” I nearly shouted as I dashed to the, thank God, vacant bathroom.  What the hell?

Told you that you couldn’t shut me out…You’ve had nearly 25 years…I defiantly think it’s my turn now…

Wait…no…you can’t do this…I was there first…its my body…

The girl returned from the bathroom smiled and took her seat, she put away her headphones and snacks, and started flipping through her magazines with obvious interest.  As the plane finally landed she turned to the man sitting next to her and said, “You ever get a ringing in your ears you just can’t get rid of?  Mine’ s almost like a never-ending conversation taking place right over my auditory nerve, oh well.”

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