filtered air and carbon bubbles || Drinks on an Airplane

i’m by the window, watching the little guys move the bags of luggage from cart to airplane belly, waiting for the runway, for the takeoff, for the fasten seatbelt sign to come on, and slowly, slowly becoming more, more parched.

‘we offer a variety of inflight snacks and beverages to tempt your tastebuds

i wait for the cart to come out…

…do i leave my earbuds in?

…continue watching the movie i’m twenty minutes into?

…finish the page of this book?

or stop everything i’m doing and just stare at the flight attendant, hoping that after this person she will ask me what i want: ice, can or cup?

the anticipation is killing me.

i look down, not wanting to waste a minute of the five hours i have on this airbus staring into space. i look up, not wanting her to skip me.

the anticipation is killing me!!

she looks at me.

‘would you like-’


a rasp of relief, the filtered air pushes out of my lungs.

‘ginger ale, please. yes, i will take the whole can’

crack, pour, fizzle. the cup and can are carefully passed to me through the hands of the middle seater.

forty minutes later and my throat is coated with sugar and ginger.

i stick my headphones back in.

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