The Plane

(A plane.  JAN and TIM sitting together.  They’re strangers.)

TIM:  Fly often?

JAN:  I’m sorry?

TIM:  Do you fly—often?

JAN:  I—uh, sorry.  I do, but not—like this.

TIM:  We might be the only ones on the plane.

JAN:  I wouldn’t—I mean, if people didn’t want to be flying right now, I’d understand.

TIM:  We’re not any worse off in the air than we would be on the ground.  This isn’t like Y2K when they thought all the computer systems were going to fail.

JAN:  I was flying during Y2K.

TIM:  Really?  Brave lady.

JAN:  Not really.  I didn’t have a choice.  My job—

TIM:  Always the job.  Same with me.  It’s insane.  What they can make us do.  Even when it looks like…

JAN:  Even when it looks like what?

TIM:  Even when it looks like we’re going to die anyway.

(A beat.)

JAN:  There’s—I’d like to think…

TIM:  I’d like to think too, but I’m too pragmatic.

JAN:  I don’t even talk to people on planes.  The people I sit next to.  I usually put on headphones.  I hate engaging strangers.

TIM:  Me too.

JAN:  So why are you engaging me?

TIM:  I, uh—Well, there’s no good way to say this.

JAN:  Say what?

TIM:  That I don’t have many people to talk to.

JAN:  That’s an okay way of saying it.

TIM:  I meant there’s no way of saying it without me sounding like a loser.

JAN:  Oh.  Well, yeah.  I guess.

TIM:  Are you divorced?

JAN:  Twice.

TIM:  Only once here.

JAN:  Congratulations.  You’re less of a failure than I am.

TIM:  Oh stop.

JAN:  The worst part?  Same guy, both times.

TIM:  Wow.  How was it the second time around?

JAN:  The marriage was worse, but the divorce was better.

TIM:  Was it?

JAN:  I’m really good once I learn how to play.  Sometimes I think I went back into the pool just so I could drown that asshole the second time around.

TIM:  What was the problem?  If you don’t mind me asking.

JAN:  No, I don’t mind.  I like answering personal questions.  It takes my mind off taking off.

TIM:  You hate taking off?  I hate landing.

JAN:  Who hates landing?  Landing means you’ve made it.

TIM:  The aim of taking off is to just get off the ground.  That seems relatively easy to me.  What we all are hoping to avoid is a crash.  What’s a landing but a well-executed crash?

JAN:  Thanks.  Now that’s how I’m always going to think of it.  What’s your question?

TIM:  What was wrong with your marriage?

JAN:  Gee, I don’t know.  What was wrong with yours and please finish your answer before we land in Miami.

TIM:  She cheated.

(A beat.)

JAN:  I’m sorry.

TIM:  It’s fine.  I cheated too.

JAN:  Well, then you’re a jerk.

TIM:  I only cheated after she cheated.

JAN:  You think that makes it better?

TIM:  Doesn’t it?

(A beat.)

JAN:  Actually, it does.  I’m sorry.

TIM:  So what was wrong with your marriage?  Take all the time you want.  The in-flight movie is the newest Fast and the Furious and I want to do anything but watch that.

JAN:  The sex was horrible.

(A beat.)

TIM:  And?

JAN:  I’m sorry.  Do you need more than that?

TIM:  It was that bad?

JAN:  Whatever you’re thinking it was?  It was worse.  Trust me.  Normal people aren’t able to imagine the kind of terrible sex my ex-husband and I had.

TIM:  Did you try counseling?

JAN:  Yup.

TIM:  And?

JAN:  It got worse.

TIM:  That’s impossible.

JAN:  Well, if I were looking for an apt metaphor for what happened, it was sort of like…we tried pressing down on a wound to stop the bleeding, and instead blood just erupted out of the wound and covered the both of us in death.

TIM:  Well, that’s a certainly a metaphor.

JAN:  I believe some people are just chemically unfit for each other.

TIM:  My ex-wife and I had excellent sex.

JAN:  Then why did you get divorced?

TIM:  Everything else was bad.

JAN:  You did the counseling thing too?

TIM:  We did.  Therapy.  Puppets even.

JAN:  You did puppets?

TIM:  Not only of ourselves.  But of other people.  Our parents.  Our friends.  The people we wanted to be.

JAN:  You did puppets of people who don’t even exist?

TIM:  Well most puppets are based on people who don’t exist.  Elmo, Oscar the Grouch—

JAN:  And none of that helped?

TIM:  It helped her.  Didn’t do much for me.

JAN:  What was her biggest complaint about you?

TIM:  Ironically?  That I never started conversations with her.

(JAN laughs.)

JAN:  You know, I feel a little bit better.  Maybe I’ll make it to Miami after all.

TIM:  Provided that comet doesn’t hit us on the way down.

JAN:  I was worried it would hit the planet while we were up here and we’d have to land on this desolate wasteland.  Like, the Sahara Desert or something.

TIM:  And we’d be the last two people on Earth.

JAN:  Not counting the pilot and the stewardesses.

TIM:  Well, we’d have to eat them to survive.

JAN:  Right, I forgot about that.

TIM:  We could maybe let the blonde stewardess live though.  Since we’ll need to be repopulating the Earth.

JAN:  Wow, you’re bad at hitting on women.

TIM:  How do you know that’s what I’m—Yes, I am.

JAN:  Can I ask a favor?

TIM:  Sure.

JAN:  Can you hold my hand during take-off?

TIM:  Really?

JAN:  Normally I just take a pill or something to knock me out, but I figure if anything does happen I want to be awake until the very last moment, so I’m a little shaky right now and I could use a steady hand.

(He takes her hand.  There is a moment.)

You know, after all these years, I think I’m finally starting to love flying.

TIM:  You know what they say, it’s never too late.

(He smiles.  She smiles back.)