Underwear

Standard

Here is what I know about airplanes.

Not a lot, which is ironic, considering my father’s a pilot.

I do know a lot about how the service goes though. Your flight attendants will remember your name if you’re in Business. Or staff travel. If you get seated at the back of the plane, you get served last. Everyone in Economy class needs to go to the toilet. And for some reason, in my family, it’s an unwritten rule that if there is one place in Business class, adults get it.

Which is why my brother and I ended up in the very back seats of the plane.

“You should’ve kept lying,” Tigger complained.

Just to annoy her, we decided to tell the flight attendant that our mother was under strict orders from our doctor to not drink alcohol. Then I felt bad and told her the truth. Then I wished we had kept lying, after we got our meals an hour after everyone else.

Fortunately, it was a long haul flight, so we got to watch television and movies. And whoever was meant to sit between us didn’t show up.

Meaning Daniel had somewhere to sit too.

He groaned. “Why are we watching this?!” he whined, when I put on What Maisie Knew.

“Because I like drama and psychology.”

“But it’s boring! It’s about a kid whose parents get divorced.”

I shook my head. “We’ll watch NCIS after, alright?”

“Good.”

What Maisie Knew was anything but boring in my opinion. Even Daniel liked it, though he fell asleep halfway though. While watching NCIS, the flight attendant asked if my brother was alright.

Which was when he threw up, vomit splattering his seat and the one next to him.

I was very thankful that I had not chosen to sit in the seat next to him, choosing the seat closest to the aisle so I wouldn’t have to do the climbing over to go to the bathroom. Which happened a lot, because it was better that no one watched me during my psychotic episodes.

Fineeee, they’re hallucinations. Happy Daniel?

Speaking of Happy Daniel…

Happy Daniel vanished pretty quickly.

Remember where he was sitting during the flight?

That’s right…

The look on Daniel’s face when Tigger vomited was hilarious. His eyes widened and he stopped breathing for a while. “What…the….FUCK?!” he shrieked.

I quickly got out of my seat and dragged him to the bathroom, leaving the flight attendants to take care of my poor brother.

“Whyyyyyyyyy?” Daniel was crying out. “What did I do to deserve this…”

“Just clean yourself up,” I told him.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“To make sure you don’t stink of vomit,” I answered. I looked him over. Daniel had received the full wrath of my brother’s stomach, vomit splattered all over his clothes. “You don’t happen to have spare clothes do you?” I asked.

He shook his head. I wiped away the vomit, but they still stunk. They needed washing…badly.

My brother could be sprayed with disinfectants and scents so he wouldn’t disturb the other passengers too much. No one would care about Daniel- they didn’t even know he existed- because he would only disturb me.

“Take off your clothes.”

The look he gave me rivalled the one he had when my brother blew chunks. “Wait, whaaaaaat?

“They stink,” I said.

“Hold on.” Daniel raised his hands up. “Did you just ask me to take off my clothes?”

I shut my eyes. “Yes. I’m not putting up with your smell for the rest of the flight. Only I can see you, so take off everything that has vomit on it.”

“Okay. It’s just-”

“I don’t want to know what you’re thinking, Daniel!”

Daniel came out after my brother and I had returned to our seats. He sat next to me, grumbling, wearing only his boxer shorts. “I feel violated,” he said.

I checked to see if my brother was asleep. “How so?”

“I’m half naked! In front of a hundred people!”

“They can’t see you Daniel.”

“But you can!”

“Argh…”

Two more hours later, we were getting off the plane. “Can I put my clothes back on?” Daniel asked.

“Go ahead.”

“Or….” Daniel had a huge smile on his face.

I looked at him in horror. “No!”

“Cat, how often are you going to see this!”

“Fuuck.”

So Daniel decided to walk through the airport in his underwear. And no one noticed except for me.

“You are not my friend,” I told him.

He laughed. “That’s not up to you.”

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