He was sitting in one of his favorite bars somewhere over Iowa or some other state he never planned to visit. This bar was terrific because they more than insisted on the guests staying seated. He also liked that the soda water was always fizzy.
It was a mid-afternoon cross country flight. The only chatter he heard while waiting to board was about golf, spring training baseball, and warm weather. Now at a comfortable cruising altitude, it seemed as if everyone was indulging in a beverage. Each sip distancing them from the frigid Midwestern winter they left behind.
The man sitting next to him was halfway through a second Bloody Mary, hadn't said a word, and had only looked up from his phone once or twice. At any regular bar on the ground that behavior is the norm minus the seat belt and tray table of course.
Flying west meant he was effectively time traveling. In a 26 hour day, he would have no trouble finding room to fit the second Scotch and soda that the flight attendant was handing over his silent seatmate. The service at this bar was always fantastic, and he could look past the turbulence - the bumps weren't her fault anyway.
He took a fizzy sip and set the drink back on the tray table. Looking out the window, a checkerboard of farmland slowly moved by 38,000 feet below as the turbulence intensified. He barely noticed and took another sip to dull his senses even more.
⬇️Get notified when I post by subscribing below!⬇️
You might also be interested in these articles...
Bar To Home
A simple translation from bar to home.