I've Been Flying for almost Thirty Hours and The Flight Attendants Won't Stop Crying

Thirty hours and twenty-two minutes. That's how long I've been sitting on this plane. That doesn't include boarding, waiting to leave the terminal, or the almost three hours we sat on the tarmac. <br><br>My phone says I've been on it for fifty-three hours, but I know that can't be right. Maybe I lost count. Maybe I've been here for a lot longer than I think. <br><br>It feels like I've been here forever.<br><br>My tongue tastes like cotton, my eyes hurt from the dryness of the cabin, and my legs cramp with the slightest movement. My seat-mate across from me died sixteen hours ago of a heart attack. The flight crew say that it's not unheard of. Planes are the most dangerous places in the world, they said, and you can't use hand sanitizer until we land. <br><br>I don't know why they were talking about hand sanitizer. <br><br>They also keep apologizing. They say this has never happened before. They keep saying it. The attendants, the pilot, even the ticket readers at the gate. They can't explain it. <br><br>They say that planes don't just...hang in the sky. <br><br>*But here we are.*<br><br>We're not moving. There's no turbulence, none at all. No jolts or jostles. Even the crying in the cabin has died down some. All of the screaming has stopped. <br><br>The food is starting to run out, but they're not rationing it yet. I don't think they know what to do. <br><br>I've walked up and down the aisles at least a hundred times but my legs still feel like jelly. And it's so quiet. There's no hum of the engine, no hiss of air from the vents, no background noise at all. Just the occasional murmur from a few rows up, or the sound of someone crying. <br><br>The flight attendants cry the most.