Turbulence

Bernoulli’s principle stated that air flowing at higher velocities creates lower pressure. That’s why aerodynamic bodies are curved on the top and flatter on the bottom. It’s the physics theory that allows humans to take flight, and the only meaningful fact I’ve remembered from elementary school.

That’s what I chanted in my head like a mantra. Our plane was in the middle of takeoff, and my stomach’s only saving grace was that I sat on the aisle seat and didn’t have to look out the window. The cabin itself was mostly light grey, accented with the dark blues of the airline company’s colours.

Ding.

Our pilot announced that takeoff was completed, and turbulence was over. The seatbelt light turned off, and sweat cooled my hands as I finally stopped gripping the handles.

“What religion should I convert to?” Seri asked. She sat to my right, with her brown hair draped over her oversized tee. A middle-aged man sat at the window seat next to her.

“Huh?” I asked.

“Obviously I fly too much to be an atheist. Aren’t you scared?”

“Yes. This is my first time flying.”

“Let’s pray to someone then.”

“I’ll pick Jesus, since my mom’s Christian.”

“Oh, my parents go to church too. That works out.”

Seri held out her hand towards me, palm up. I stared it, then stared at her. She shook her hand expectantly.

“What?”

“Hold my hand.”

I slowly obliged. Did Christians hold hands to pray? I thought it was usual practice to individually press our hands together, like the praying emoji… not that I was complaining though. Her palm’s warmth comfort eased my nausea. What a motherly touch.

“Let’s pray,” Seri said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

She bowed her head and closed her eyes. I mirrored her motions, and silently hoped that no one was looking at us. The hand that she held grew warm.

“Father God,” she started. “I pray that you’ll bless us and keep us safe on this flight. I pray that the pilots will be able to fly well, and you’ll keep Sunny’s stomach from sullying this plane. Thank you. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

The moment she let go, my hand was cooled by the sweat that built up without me noticing. I couldn’t tell if it was hers or mine.

“Excuse me sir?”

I turned to see a flight attendant dressed in dark blues, pulling a dark blue food cart.

“Thanks for waiting,” I said. My face grew hot, knowing that she probably waited for us to finish praying.

“No worries. Would you like a coffee or water?”

“No thanks.”

“Any snacks? We have pretzels and cookies.”

“I’ll take a pretzel, please.”

Seri piped up beside me. “I’ll have a cookie.”

“Here you go,” the attendant politely smiled. The packages were nearly identical. cookies were wrapped in dark blue, and pretzels were a darker blue.

“I’m starting to get sick of seeing dark blue,” I said.

“Then look outside.”

“Hell no.”

“You mean heavens no?” she scolded. “We just prayed.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” I quickly prayed for forgiveness in my head. I wasn’t taking any chances on this flight. My stomach growled, just as I whispered amen.

I ripped open the long awaited package of mini-pretzels. They were a crunchy staple; its salted fragrance truly unparalleled by any other form of wheat… at least, the first one was. I’d even say it tasted great, considering how hungry I was. However, each pretzel lined my stomach a little, and the quality of its taste began a steady decline. It might as well have been cardboard by the time I got to the last two.

“Can I try one?” Seri asked. I held the pretzels towards her and simultaneously chomped the cookie in her hand. I observed a crunchy texture and a hint of sugar, but nothing else. Why was everything so tasteless?

Seri tossed some mini pretzels into her mouth, ignoring my invasion of her snack. “Tastes like cardboard,” she commented.

“Yeah, right? I usually love pretzels too.”

“The low pressure up here makes food taste worse. It changes your taste buds or something.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yup. Pressure decreases with altitude as well,” she explained confidently. “So the higher up we go, the worse it’ll get… I think.”

Low pressure. Those words stuck in my mind. I think it was supposed to imply something important, but I couldn’t put a finger on why.

Parched from the pretzels, I pulled out my water bottle. It was a clear plastic container with a button on top, tinted dark blue just like the rest of the plane. Inside, a straw was attached to the mouthpiece embedded in the lid.

Seri panicked. “Hey, wai-“

She was too late.

In hindsight, the science checked out — my bottle inside contained atmospheric pressure from the ground, which was higher than the cabin pressure in the air. It made sense that the pressure difference would cause water to squirt out of the bottle.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t something my brain registered as I pressed the button. I sat still in shock for a good two seconds before recognising the need to close the lid. By then, I was soaked. Seri, upon realising that she was dry, began snickering uncontrollably.

I waved over a flight attendant. “Sorry, could I get some paper towel?”

“Of course.” Even the attendant smiled as she saw Seri laughing at my predicament.

“Shut up,” I whispered. “You’re bothering people.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” piped up the old man on Seri’s right. “We’re having a good laugh is all.”

My face reddened even further. I quietly accepted a dry towel from the flight attendant and obediently cleaned up my mess. As I finished up, a ray of light shone from my side. It hurt my eyes, so I opted to squint and avert my gaze.

Seri’s excited-child voice resurfaced. “Whoa, Sunny! Look over here!”

“What?” I asked.

“The window!”

“I refuse. You know I’m gonna throw up.”

“Come on!”

“Son,” the old man said. “It’ll never get better if you don’t get used to it.”

What does he know? Is he even familiar with healthcare?

My frustrations had added up past my point of tolerance, and I turned to argue back. However, instead of being greeted with the argument to satisfy my slightly temperamental needs, my eyes were drawn directly to the small aeroplane window.

Natural landscape spread beyond the wide stretches of horizon. It was unlike anything I’ve seen before — we were simply aliens flying by creation’s door. Snow tipped mountains drifted below us like miniature figurines on a conveyor belt. When I looked closer, I could make out individual evergreens and ponds. It felt the same as spotting stars in the night sky, except stargazing made me feel like a small speck in the universe’s grandeur. Flying invoked the grandiosity within me. Was I going through a manic episode?

“Maybe I am bipolar...” I muttered.

“I feel the same,” Seri said. “Don’t worry.”

The man closed the window and smiled at me. “That’s refreshing. Better get some rest now, before we start descending.”

“Oh!” Seri exclaimed. “Let’s listen to the playlist we made.”

“Right,” I said. We had prepared a two-hour long song list for the flight, which I was also looking forward to. Since I often drove, I never got to hear her music taste firsthand.

“Did you download it?”

“Yup.” I handed her an earbud. She looked at it before popping it into her ear.

Thank God I cleaned it before. Sharing earwax would’ve been embarrassing.

As our songs began playing, I grew warm as if I were sunbathing in a pool. My mind began drifting, and I decided to close my eyes. The whole ordeal had been exhausting, and I desperately needed to rest. After what felt like no more than a long blink, we were already halfway through the playlist.

Did I… fall asleep? What a deep rest.

Perhaps the fatigue from

I heard a ding. My eyes darted around. The seatbelt lights had turned on overhead, and something heavy was breathing on my shoulder.

I turned to see Seri’s hair stuffed in my face. She was resting on me, which would’ve felt romantic if not for my intense premonition of dark times ahead. I nudged her awake.

“Uggh… what’s happening?” Seri rubbed her eyes.

Krr krrrr.

The intercom crackled. “Everybody please put on your seatbelts. Landing turbulence is incoming, so I advise you all to sit still and stay calm. Thank you very much.”

We lurched forwards and backwards and sideways like it was a roller coaster. Seri gripped my arm tightly, and I gripped the arm rest even tighter.

“I’m getting tickle D,” I said.

“What’s the D stand for?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“This is kinda fun!”

I frantically prayed on my own without a second thought for the absurd comment.

“Seri?” I asked, my voice quivering.