But the first leg of the trip gets my attention off it. I’ve snagged a window seat, and soon I’m joined by an older (than me) couple. She’s not too stable and more or less falls into her seat. He’s in caretaker mode and looks remarkably like a former parishioner, but he doesn’t seem to recognize me, so I guess it’s just happenstance.
She’s a fiddler. As soon as we’re in the air she has her tray down and her carry-on open, sorting the contents: change purse, tweezers, keys, Kleenex, eyedrops, more Kleenex, and a crossword paperback. All but that last gets stowed, and she and her husband, at least that’s my guess, get into an above-the-engine-decibel level discussion about each clue. Four letter word for curve. Five letter word for recommend. Southwestern Indian – six letters. This is time-consuming because she can’t see the page nor, for some reason, grip a pen. But he wants her to come up with the answers, so he reads each question aloud then gives her hints before she finally gets it, and he leans around her to write down the solution.
And now I discover it wasn’t eye drops. The carry-on reappears and out comes the bottle of contact lens wetting solution. She has decided the reason she can’t see is because her contact was in upside down (inside out?) causing great discomfort and loss of vision. She manages to extract it and starts rewetting it on the tray table, squirting on the solution and rubbing it against the formica - at which point it slips into her lap. But her husband is right there: “I think I see it. Here, let me get it. Oh, that isn’t it. Pull your coat apart. Maybe it went on the floor.”
Soon the wayward lens is recovered and the rewetting process begins again, just as the flight attendant brings her a coke and him a gin and tonic. He spills part of his, looking for the lens, and she spills part of hers, trying to pull her coat apart. We've added more liquid to the mix!
Now things start scooting freely back and forth, and to my delight all fears of a plane crash have been set aside. I imagine a meal out with my new companions: him cutting her food, she rewetting her contact lens with gravy. But for now she’s able to pop the lens in, put the carry-on back on the floor, raise the tray table, and scoot to the bathroom and back all on her own before we land.
They both seem pleased with the way the past hour and a half has been spent. And so am I.
