The plane lifted off the runway and into the air. The person next to you turns and quietly whispers in your ear, “I know I’m supposed to keep this a secret, but I absolutely must tell someone.”
Three and a half hours till Washington. Three and a half hours till I’m free and away from this strange smelling citizen who just happened to be seated next to me. Three and a half hours of catching glances of his dirty blonde short and adult acne infested face decorated with the ugliest pair of shades ever Made in China. And of course, three and a half hours till I’m released and off duty away from his cheap Axe body spray and heavily starched button shirt; oh the horror.
Almost on cue, he started talking. I made my bathroom trip early in hopes that I could peacefully sleep the remainder of the flight. I guess in attempts to ‘1 up me’ he took one as well. When he returned, before he could even buckle back in, he leaned over and whispered something into my ear.
“I know I’m supposed to keep this a secret, but I absolutely must tell someone. I have a bomb in my carry-on luggage… so I hope you didn’t make any plans for the rest of the day. By the way my name is Lance.” He said and faded back into position with an evil grin. I sat speechless and just stared at him while my brain interpreted what my ear drums had just received. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak, my eyes even failed to acknowledge the nature of blinking. I just sat there with pupils of stone and a physique to match.
“Oh, and in case you’re feeling heroic, I’ve already predicted that. So while you were in the little boys room freshening up, I slipped a paralyzing poison into you’re lovely cup of Sprite. Tasty eh?” He said with the most demonic grin I’ve ever seen outside of a Steven Spielberg scene. I didn’t know exactly what I was feeling or if I was actually feeling anything at all, but I knew I had to do something; I couldn’t just sit here a die with the only intelligence available to stop a current terrorist attack.
The guy just leaned back in his chair and acted as if he had merely told me the time of day. It was written on his face that he was ready to die for his cause. But there was one problem… I wasn’t.
After I built up enough energy within my concrete muscles, I somehow leaned over into his ear catching him fully off guard.
“There’s something I should tell you as well. The flight attendant initially gave me the wrong drink… I drink Seirra mist…”
The shock in his eyes was priceless. That very moment, I spoke for everyone on board, everyone against terrorism, everyone on land with loved ones who have lost their lives or would potentially lose theirs now. I spoke for souls of lost Soldiers, Marines, Airmen, Navy seamen, and anyone who has every stood up, or spoke up, against terrorism… and it felt lovely.
“By the way, my name is Air Marshal Clemmons…”
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