8:35pm
Ladies and Gentlemen we will now begin boarding Delta Air flight 387 non-stop to London-Heathrow; you are welcome aboard. At this time we would like to board anyone with young children or other special needs.
After suffering your tenth miniature heart attack of the hour whilst scrambling to find your boarding pass and passport, you lift your eyes to examine the possible screaming urchins boarding your flight to London. Under most circumstances of a slightly shorter length, you can tolerate, even enjoy, the company of small children, despite their inconceivable ratio of lung capacity to tantrum decibels. After all, you had spent the last four years in bustling metropolis of Chicago earning your degree in (y/major) and riding the CTA, notorious for its bizarre characters and screaming babies. And man, were there some wacky characters. You simultaneously chuckle and cringe at the thought of the male contortionist who got his leg stuck in one of the handles and ripped his pink, sequined leotard from crotch to torso in an attempt to escape, or the woman who brought her three miniature silky fainting goats onto the blue line. You used to think it was just the city, but after a while you just kind of accepted the fact that you were just a weirdo magnet. Even your roommate Hannah, a Chicago native, began dismissing your practically weekly horror stories as a result of your overactive imagination.
…
You are startled out of your own little world by vaguely robotic female voice announcing the boarding of section B.
…
As you make your way towards the gate, you silently curse yourself for not getting a better gauge of your fellow passengers. As you were traveling alone, discovering your neighbor for the next eight hours was a game of roulette. When you finally stumble into your seat and begin settling in to your new home, you carefully examine each passenger walking your way, making sure to avoid any awkward eye contact. So far the angry looking business man, the man smelling of moldy cheese, and the middle aged woman with heavy black eye-liner, red cloak, and vampire-bite neck tattoo have passed you by. "Wait," you think to yourself, "everyone has passed me by, everyone is seated… what's the catch?" After about five minutes of skepticism, you lift the barrier between the two seats, scoot next to the window, throw your oversized (y/fthing) hoodie on, and snuggle into your well-worn copy of (y/fb). Your sense of contentment is shattered by the Warburton-esque voice of your captain, "Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome aboard Delta Air flight 387 non-stop to London-Heathrow. A flight from Florida carrying a few passengers on this flight arrived 45 minutes late and we are waiting for them to arrive at the gate. This should only be five or so minutes delay putting our arrival time at 10:55am."
"Well crap" you unintentionally vocalize, earning an odd look from the man sitting across the aisle. You respond with an awkward, apologetic smile and begin readjusting your cocoon to accommodate another person. As the omnipotent voice from above predicted, more passengers began quickly filling the seats around you. Meanwhile, you again attempt to see into the souls of your potential seatmates and you happen to spy a particularly familiar Adventure Time hoodie on a particularly tall man. You risk a glance upward to see whose face belongs to that bright, amusing hoodie. Immediately you recognize the slightly mussed, yet silky black hair, and piercing blue eyes of the adorably hilarious Phil Lester.
He is stumbling down the aisle with an anxious and apologetic expression on his soft, pale features. You realize you have been staring when his eyes meet yours. As a result, your heart momentarily forgets how to function. He offers you a small smile, which you graciously return, and inquires, "16, eh?"
Your brain seems to have also forgotten how to function and you immediately reply, "No, 22 actually". As soon as the words leave your lips, you realize that he was in fact confirming that you were in seat 16A and not how long you have been humiliating yourself in front of others. While your mind and lips scramble to keep up with the times and Phil quizzically checks the number labeled above you seat, you manage to babble, "Oh! Sorry, 16A that's me! Erm I thought you were asking for my age, for whatever reason, which really makes no sense… Anyway hi, I swear I am not completely insane."
He chuckles nervously, "No worries, honestly I was just worried that my hope that I would be sitting by you had clouded my ability to read numbers…erm." He cheeks begin to glow as he breaks away from your gaze and begins to haphazardly stuff his duffle into the overhead compartment. You have a feeling that you are sporting a similar coloration. Looking slightly mortified, he qualifies, "Sorry, what I mean is, I often seem to… attract crazy people… and as I was looking at the empty seats, the one next to the lovely girl in the (y/favthing) hoodie seemed like the most promising option."
Before he can feel any more uncomfortable you grin and suggest he may want to sit down as the plane was about to move. Suddenly aware that he was in fact hunched over the arm rest with his hands stuck in his pockets in an oddly contorted way, he clumsily slides passed you in order to plop into window seat (unintentionally brushing your right kneecap in the process sending shivers throughout your entire body).
After a couple excruciating beats of silence, you turn your head towards Phil and break the ice, "As amusing as our meet-cute has been, I think we have given each other enough apologizes to last us at least the next eight hours… Care for an awkward moment truce for the rest of the trip?"
"You mean no more apologies for the rest of the flight? That sounds great!" he smiles at you before continuing, "But, I have kind of brainwashed myself into be unnecessarily apologetic. Like, I would apologize to the guy mugging me if he was struggling to remove my wallet."
"Well," you challenge, "How about we raise the stakes?"
"Go on," he responds, intrigued.
"Every time one of us apologizes for something silly, they have to give one of their complimentary peanuts to the other person." you suggest.
"That does sound interesting. It's a deal but if we're going to enter into this high-stakes legume competition, I feel I should introduce myself. Hi, my name is Phil."
"Actually," you confess, "I kind of knew that already; I've been a fan of your videos for a few years now."
"Really? That's great, thank you! So what is the name of my rival?"
"It's (y/n)."
"(y/n)," he savors the word, "what a great name."
"You like that?" You answer with a smirk, "then you should hear my phone number."
Your sudden burst of confidence, escapes as soon as it arrives. As a result you abashedly hide you face in your hands without seeing his reaction. You mumble through your hand, "ugh I am so sorry, my roommate and I have been binge watching Friends as a farewell to America for me."
He, barely keeping it together, playfully pokes at your shield. You peek out of your cave of shame to hear him say, "Hey, how you doin'?" in one of the most ridiculous Jersey accents you have encountered. As a result, the two of you burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, which is momentarily silenced by the glare of the flight attendant whom you can see wants to strangle you with the seatbelt she is demonstrating how to fasten.
You both manage to stifle your laughter through the obligatory safety protocols and at last you are taking off.
"As corny as it sounds, I love seeing a massive city shrink into the size of a dollhouse as we take off." He muses. He turns to you with a smile which soon turns into a look of concern when he notices a single tear running down your cheek. "(y/n), what's wrong? Are you afraid of flying?"
You sigh, "No, it's just I don't know when I'll see my city again. You see I'm flying into London to stay with a friend of mine for a month before going to grad school in Germany for the next four years. It's kind of surreal that I'm actually leaving."
He looks at you with tender eyes and says, "That is a pretty big change."
"Sorry," you sigh and wipe your eyes, "I just kind of… this conversation is a bit heavy for a plane ride."
He grins at you and replies, "You owe me a peanut."
As you place the salty snack into his waiting palm, you both smile and watch the city lights grow more and more dim.
So long Chicago.