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

Thirty hours ago, my brother and I settled into our seats near the front of the plane, ready to embark on a three-day vacation. I’m a nurse at a big hospital in New York, and after months of hard work and a particularly nasty incident with a mentally ill patient, my brother and I decided we needed to get away for a little while. We decided on a trip to Los Angeles to visit some family we hadn’t seen in a while, and we finally found cheap tickets for a direct morning flight. It’s now been thirty hours since we left JFK airport, and instead of spending the last twenty-four hours basking in the LA heat and taking in the sights of Tinseltown, we’ve been…well, we’ve been on this plane. The flight attendants are going crazy. We took off at 8am that morning, with barely a hiccup. I remember listening to music and reading a magazine while the pilot’s voice came over the speakers to give us the usual flight safety information, but then, just as the plane started to gain altitude, the pilot’s voice came over the speakers again. *“We are preparing to make our final descent.”* My brother and I exchanged confused glances. We had barely left New York. “How long does it take to get to LA these days,” my brother joked. The flight attendants standing near the front of the plane looked just as confused as we did. One of them, a kind-eyed older woman with curly red hair, approached the intercom near the front of the plane and spoke into it. *“Umm…yes?…ok….ok….yes.”* The pilot’s voice came on again. *“We are preparing to make our final descent.”* I, along with several other passengers, started to get up out of our seats. Some of us were annoyed and wanted answers, others were frightened. The flight attendants tried to herd us back into our seats, but they were clearly just as bewildered as we were. The pilot’s voice came on again, and again, and *again*, until it was almost deafening. *“We are preparing to make our final descent.”* It was starting to get scary, and I think we all knew that something was seriously wrong. The pilot’s voice came on again, but this time, it was different. *“This is not right. We are not here.”* Then, nothing. The plane flew on for what felt like hours. We tried calling the the pilot from the intercom in the passenger area, but no one responded. The flight attendants tried to keep everyone calm with water and snacks, but they were clearly terrified. Several passengers tried to get into the cockpit, but no matter what they did, the door wouldn’t budge. It’s been almost thirty hours since we left, and we’ve started to lose hope. The flight attendants have begun to openly weep. The pilot hasn’t made an announcement in hours, and the food is running out. We’re starting to get seriously uncomfortable, and I can hear some of the passengers getting violent. The guy in the row in front of me keeps yelling at the top of his lungs, and a group of teenagers near the back of the plane are starting to destroy their surroundings. It’s not looking good, and we’re seriously starting to think that we might never make it to our destination. We have no idea where we are, or what’s gone wrong. The guy in the row in front of me has started pounding on the cockpit door, begging the pilot to let him in, and I can hear the flight attendants wailing from the crew area at the back of the plane. I think we’re all starting to lose it, and I have a feeling that, no matter where we end up, things are going to end badly. ——- The guy in front of me broke down the cockpit door, and we all rushed in to see the pilot and co-pilot sitting at the controls, their eyes vacant, staring straight ahead. “What the ****is wrong with you?!” The guy from 17A screamed at the pilot. “Where are we? Why aren’t you trying to get us out of here?” The pilot didn’t move. He just stared ahead, out the window at the endless blue sky. “Where are we?” I asked him. The pilot didn’t move. “Where are we?” I repeated. “What’s going on?” The pilot turned to me, and a chill ran down my spine. His eyes were black as coal, and his smile was twisted and deranged. “We are right where we need to be,” he said, his voice low and menacing. The co-pilot seemed to snap out of her trance, and turned to face the pilot. “What? No…no, we aren’t…this isn’t right.” The pilot turned to her, his black eyes flashing with anger. “We are right where we need to be,” he repeated, his voice rising in a scream. “We are home.” The pilot’s wrists started to twitch, and the controls began to shake. The plane lurched forward, and we all stumbled as the plane took a sharp turn to the left. “What’s going on?” One of the flight attendants screamed. “Where are you taking us?” The pilot turned to her, his smile growing even wider. “We are taking you home,” he said, his voice filled with glee. “We are taking you to the only place you’ve ever been. We have been here for as long as any of us can remember. This is home, and this is where we will all die.” The co-pilot started to weep, and the pilot turned back to the controls, his twisted smile still plastered on his face. The guy from 17A tried to grab the controls, but the pilot turned to him, eyes flashing with black, and screamed at the top of his lungs. “**YOU DON’T REMEMBER?!**” He screamed, over and over, until the guy stumbled backward, frightened. The pilot turned back to the controls, still laughing maniacally, and the plane lurched forward again. I stumbled backward, and fell to the floor, dazed. The guy from 17A grabbed me and helped me up, and together, we stumbled out of the cockpit and back to our seats. The flight attendants are still crying at the back of the plane, and the pilot is still cackling maniacally from the cockpit. We don’t know what’s going on, or where we are, or where we’re going. But we know we’re never getting there.

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

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