my plane is a popsicle and my flight attendant is a sphinx

3:30am. My alarm does its job, which is a good thing, and I should not be annoyed with it. I try to wear my pants and trip three times. I’m too tired to be embarrassed.

3:54am. My ride to the airport arrives six minutes early. I take a final desperate swig of coffee. It scalds my mouth and splashes on to my sweater.

4:13am. The path to Airport Security line is bare and the agents are grumpy. I am not reassured that these are the people in charge of ensuring safety of passengers.

4:36am. The display at Gate E2 says the flight is on time to leave at 6:00am. Good. I turn on my heel and search for a shop that might sell me a decent coffee.

4:51am. This coffee is not decent.

5:00am. Gate E2 is bustling with people and antsy energy. Maybe it’s because the gate is too small for the number of people on this flight. Maybe it’s because its occupants are eager to leave Minneapolis for Atlanta. A man in a bright red sweatsuit sits across from me. He is explaining the difference between Minneapolis and Atlanta “ladies” to someone on the phone who inexplicably responds as if they are interested in this information.

5:05am. It took a long time for Red Sweatsuit to get to the point, but his expert opinion is that the difference has something to do with the nature and duration of “the chase.” This coffee is somehow getting worse over time.

5:18am. “Gate E2, we now going to begin boarding the flight to… Atlanta, right on time,” the voice on the intercom says. Actually, we are three minutes late.

5:35am. I sit down and click the seat belt closed. It’s good I didn’t bring luggage because a few customers are grumbling about having to check their bags. From my seat at the window, I can see the plane’s wing and the faint glow on the horizon. Sleep beckons again. Maybe I’ll sleep. I sneeze and the man next to me says, “Bless you,” in a monotone voice, looking dead straight at the plastic back of the seat in front of us.

6:04am. The flight attendants announce that we will be taking off momentarily, on time. We are now actually four minutes late. I turn off my phone. I’m just in a bad mood because I’m sleepy and my breath smells like coffee and for a bad reason because the coffee wasn’t even good. I let my eyes close and lean my head against the window. Maybe I can sleep until we land.

7:10am. The flight attendant’s voice in the intercom jolts me awake. Sunrise must be soon. I can see long shadows on the tarmac.

On the tarmac?

We’re still on the ground?

“Please, we need to deboard the plane from,” the flight attendant’s voice sounded from the speakers, “the front... of the plane.”

7:21am. I guess everyone on my plane decided to go to the ladies room after deboarding. “I heard the cargo door is frozen shut or something,” says a lady a few people down the queue from me. “Total disaster."

7:30am. The deboarded occupants of Gate E2 hover near the gate window, quietly watching the maintenance workers by the plane. “Is that a blowtorch?” a Gate E2 passenger giggles to her mother.

“Sure looks like it,” her mother squints bemusedly. I’m not sure how I would deal with this kind of disaster but a blowtorch isn’t it.

7:59am. The flight attendant says that our plane has been delayed by another hour. No one needed for her to tell us–the maintenance workers have been theatrically taking turns with the blowtorch for thirty minutes now.

9:45am. This shop’s coffee is less burnt but more watery than the other one.

10:11am. Back at E2. “My man out here lookin like he tryna break into the plane,” a man next to me says into the phone. Sure enough, the maintenance worker has taken to yanking on the door. “And this muthafucka seriously coming back again with the hairdryer!” the man laughs and points the phone camera out of the window to show the person on the other side of the phone the scene. The muffled laughter coming from the phone speakers is almost comforting.

11:00am. The flight is delayed by two more hours. The man on the phone isn’t laughing anymore. They might have to cancel their evening plans with friends.

11:20am. The maintenance workers are still at it with the torch. At this point, this is theater, not optimism.

12:30pm. “Hello passengers on our flight from… Minneapolis to,” the flight attendant’s voice said through the intercom, “Atlanta.” I look up from my book, half asleep. “Thank you for your patience. The maintenance workers have been trying their… best to help… our situation. For those of you who are laying over in… Atlanta before… flying to… Florida…” For some reason all of these flight attendants put pauses in syntactically all the wrong places in their sentences when they talk through the intercom. This has got to be some weird thing they learn in flight attendant training to confuse us. “And so, you should speak to a flight attendant not here at… the desk, but someone at Gate… E7 about cancelling your ticket. We can discuss reimbursements.”

Hold on. Is our flight cancelled?

“What she said? The flight’s cancelled?” said friend of Red Sweatsuit.

“No, it’s not.” The woman sitting across from us shook her head, her curls swooshing across her eyes. “That’s only if you’re going to Florida. Then your flight is cancelled and they’ll pay you back for it.” She must speak flight-attend-ese.

“Hold up,” he sat up straight. “This the plane to Atlanta right?”

“Yes, but,” she rolled her eyes. “Some people got flights from Atlanta to Florida, and their flight is cancelled.”

“They cancelled our flight ’cause of them?”

“No! Those people can’t get on the plane at Atlanta to Florida, so they need to cancel their tickets for the flight we tryna get on. That’s what she said, just the Florida people.” She shakes her head again and rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s trying hard not to smile.

“Ohh…”

“Yeaaaah.”

“I seen you before. I think I seen you on Facebook."

“Attention, passengers on this flight to… Atlanta,” said the voice on the intercom. “Your flight has been delayed by another hour.”

12:56pm. Did you know that the Filet-o-Fish sandwich is supposed to have half a slice of cheese? Apparently, McDonald’s decided that it should be half a slice because a whole slice would overpower the flavor of the fish. Also, the type of fish used in the filet-o-fish depends on what country you are in. In the U.S., we have Alaskan pollock, and in countries like Australia, they use a fish called hoki.

2:00pm. The girl who speaks flight-attend-ese and the boy who doesn’t could have found a more secluded place to make out. I’m just too jealous that they found a way to not be bored.

2:15pm. I can walk from one doughnut shop to to the other doughnut shop in 7 seven minutes.

2:19pm. 4 if I walk fast.

2:30pm. My phone vibrates. The airline sent me a QR code for $7 off a lunch at the airport. Who eats lunch at 2:30pm? Where in the airport can I get food for $7?

2:45pm. A text message from the airline says my flight is now delayed until 2:40pm. They’re just making fun of us at this point.

4:01pm. “Thank you for your patience on… this flight… situation.” The voice of doom sounds on the intercom. “We are talking with our maintenance workers about…”

“Jesus Christ! The door’s still fucking frozen. We can all see it!” One E2 passenger gestures with both hands at the window. A few others are starting to pace around the gate. One girl is crying.

“Please, don’t… please listen to our… announcement.” The voice of doom responds, and I stand up to hear her better. There are four police officers at the gate now. “The flight is delayed.”

“We fucking know!”

“Please…” she sighed. “This flight is delayed until tomorrow morning at… 6:00am. We can also cancel your ticket for a full reimbursement.” Half of the passengers are standing up now, eyeballs swelling out of their sockets. Several started towards the counter. The police officers must be expecting a fight.

“I don’t need a reimbursement. Get us on the flight to Atlanta now.” I don’t have the heart to tell them that arguing with the flight attendants is no use.

4:21pm. I am in line to argue with the flight attendant.

4:40pm. It’s my turn in line. “Hello, I had some questions about this flight.”

“Yes ma’am, our maintenance workers have been trying to help us.” Her voice is shaking.

“Yes, I can see that. The cargo door is frozen shut, which means that people’s luggage is stuck in there, correct?”

“That’s right ma’am. There’s no way to get it out until we un-freeze the door.”

“Thank you. Luckily, I have no luggage, aside from this bag I’m carrying here,” I gesture at my backpack. “So I have no need to wait for this plane. Can you please cancel my ticket for this flight and put me on another flight today for Atlanta?”

“Ma’am, we can’t take off unless we can get the cargo door open. Also, we cannot get any luggage out at this time.”

Her mouth is smiling, but her eyes are devoid of thought. I blink and repeat, “Can you please cancel my ticket and put me on another plane to Atlanta? I have no luggage so I have no reason to wait for this flight.”

“Sure ma’am, if you’d like to cancel your ticket, we can give you a full reimbursement.”

This doesn’t answer my question either. “No, I don’t want to cancel my trip–I want to be put on a different flight.”

“I’m sorry ma’am, we cannot do that because we have delayed our flight until tomorrow at 6:00am.”

“Sorry, I’m confused. How does that prevent you from putting me on a new flight?”

“Yes ma’am, the maintenance workers have been trying to un-freeze the door. They suggested that we delay our flight because we cannot take off. We can put you on a new flight if your flight is canceled. If you want, I can cancel your ticket and give you a full reimbursement.”

My eye is twitching. “I would not like a reimbursement for this flight. Can you reimburse me for the Uber I took today to the airport, the Uber I will take home today, and the Uber I will take to the airport tomorrow?”

“No ma’am, this delay is due to weather conditions outside of our control. And we also cannot pay for any hotel fees you may incur due to this delay.”

I wish I needed to stay at a hotel so I could have a reason to lose my temper. “Okay… But if I show up tomorrow, will we be using the same plane?”

“I believe the maintenance workers will continue working hard to unfreeze the door on this plane overnight, ma’am.”

“The weather is going to get colder this evening, so--sorry--with all due respect, I just don’t see any reason to believe that this plane will be functional tomorrow.”

“Yes ma’am, exactly. These are weather conditions that are outside of our control.” A bead of sweat hesitates for a moment on its way down her temple.

I feel my mouth open, but nothing comes out out. She shifts her weight to her other foot and is shrouded in shadow as the cruel light of the setting sun blasts me in the face. That’s when it dawned on me. This is a riddle. It's got to be. If I just think, I’ll get the answer, and the sphinx that guards the skies will grant me access to the plane. This is the only sensible explanation at this point. I collect my thoughts, take a deep breath, and raise my gaze to meet the empty eyes of the sphinx.

“I do not want to cancel my ticket. The answer is for you to cancel our flight and put me on a different one. The weather will only get worse, and I have no reason to believe it will get better. This means the plane will continue to be frozen, and the flight will likely continue to be delayed. I do not want to sit in the airport all day tomorrow, only for the flight to be delayed continually until the next day again.”

The dark silhouette slowly begins to move. Did I do it? From the shadows, the sphinx emerges and gives me a knowing look. Was that the answer? “Oh ma’am,” she chuckles. “All day? Frozen doors are typically fixed in one to two hours. I can’t imagine anyone would keep you in the airport all day for a broken plane.”