The Day After
There I was, tired but satisfied. I soared above the clouds at thirty thousand feet wedged into my chair next to a bronzed middle-aged couple. Wait a moment, I am middle-aged just minus the bronze. Does that mean they remember me as a seemingly unconscious white guy? I flew half asleep, a victim more of dragging myself out of bed at 3:30 am then a hard night drinking and gambling. I was suddenly awakened by a snort that I summarily tried to conceal by executing another one with with eyes wide open. The woman beside me didn't seem to take the bait as she examined me trying to determine if I was dying. She was nervous in her own right. Apparently she hadn't flown in twenty years and sleeping did not seem to be on her agenda. She clutched her husband hand and likely wondered how I could be so relaxed during such a frightening moment. Reluctantly, I was on my way home. Just a few days earlier my seat companion had been a red neck man in his 30's. He was