Confession Cabin

It is said that in order to convert a certain task into a habit, the said task has to be repeated seventeen to twenty-one times. It took him just once to get hooked. Just like with cigarettes, alcohol, coffee and mild recreational prescription medication. Due to his high anxiety levels and his antisocial and reclusive personality, commuting and travelling was one of his worst nightmares. In order to relieve himself from this burden, he came up with one of his best ideas ever, only second best to the one about turning off the bedside lamp but not actually turning it off by covering it with a blanket, that brought him recognition within the local community and the fire department. The “Confess to Strangers scheme”. No matter where, no matter when, whoever sat next to him, had to listen to his life’s problems. It works on so many levels, no more yapping from old ladies, no more boring pointless conversations, because due to his “good luck” or the lack of it, even if there was one dodgy person in the whole train, plane, bus, spacecraft, don’t know what, he/she/it would come and sit next to him. Oh, fat people too. A 100% free of guilt, commitment, medical certification and dollars, unreliable and unsolicited psychological analysis session. You just relieve yourself from all the shit in your head in the now-next-to-you human toilet.
“Good morning”
“Good morning, sir. How may I help?”
“Well, I would like a couple of hot dogs and some curly fries, please.”
She looked shocked, but with a crooked smile.
“I’m joking. You are not going to call security to go all nuclear on me, are you? I am booked for the flight to San Francisco.”
“Could I have a photo ID please?”
“Sure, here you are. Listen, could I have an aisle seat? Three rows from the back, please. I don’t like to be cornered and I pee a lot.”
“I will try my best Mr. Harris. Any luggage to check in?”
“No, I do not have any. My ex wife took everything in the divorce, even the dust on the furniture.”
“OK, Mr. Harris. Here is your boarding pass. You should be at G13 in 45 minutes”
“Is it far? I don’t like walking, it ruins my figure.”
“Have a nice flight Mr. Harris.”
“Thank you very much, but I think it mostly depends on the pilot.”
He made it to the security control. As per usual, they checked everything. They practically stripped him down, went through his bag, and double-checked his passport. While they were patting him down, he was thinking that this was the most intimate he had been with someone in a long time.
He carried on to the gate. About six dozens of people were there. All in perfect alignment behind a silk-a-like rope, waiting for the girl with the nice voice to give the signal for the race to start. The winner is the one who stays alive, puts the hand luggage in the overhead compartment first and sits comfortably in his “too small to fit your ass in” seat.
“I wouldn’t want to be in the stewardesses’ shoes, having to deal with these animals” he thought. “I feel sorry for them, caught in the middle of this aisle fight for overhead compartment domination between zombified businessmen and mean old ladies.”
People were passing by and every time somebody was getting closer, he started praying in desperation “Not him, not her, please, please!”
The airlines should offer you the option to choose who is going to sit next to you. For a reasonable fee, they could provide you with an “in-flight dating service”. When you reserve your ticket, you create a simple profile with your preferences and interests. Then they match it up with another passenger’s compatible profile on the same flight, male or female, depending on your preferences. The chances to have an interesting and enjoyable flight increase dramatically.
An old lady started running towards him. He started panicking. “No, please don’t do this to me, please! Wait a minute! Is that a live chicken in her bag?” She passed right through. “Pff, that was close.” Deep breath.
“Excuse me? Could I pass to the window, please?”
“Pardon?” and he took the earphones off.
“Could I pass to the window, please? I think I am about to get lynched.”
“Of course. Sorry, but I couldn’t hear you before.”
“It’s Ok, no worries”. She smiled.
People tend not to talk to you when you have earphones on. He put the earphones back on, smiling politely, like he had just been injected in the face with a shit load of botox. Politeness is the social thing to do, if you were brought up that way.
“Is San Francisco your final destination?”
He kept on smiling and she was waving her hand.
“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you again.”
“Do you live in San Francisco?”
“Yes, I do. Well, my family lives there, I don’t really know where I live. I live all over the place, everywhere.”
“Do you travel a lot?”
“Most of the time. For work or to find one.”
“And what is that you do?”
“Trying to survive.”
“Sounds exciting!”
“What to do. That’s the way it is. And you?”
“What about me?”
“What is it that you do for a living?”
“I am a doctor; in fact I am trying to be one.”
He raised his right eye brow in surprise and excitement.
“A doctor? Blimey!”
“I am trying to get my specialty now. Gastroenterology.”
“Really? That’s amazing. I could be your lab rat if you want to. I am a rat; you will just have to put me in the lab. I am a very interesting case. I have almost everything, but mainly bad genes and bad luck.”
“Interesting…”
“I don’t know, maybe. I have severe gastrointestinal problems. A six cm hiatal hernia, GERD, IBS and I was almost diagnosed with Crohn’s disease, but three colonoscopies later, I’ve dodged that bullet. For now. And the latest addition is… DD.”
“Cool, but it sounds serious by the way!”
“Tell me about it. It’s been close to a decade that the suffering goes on and on. I can’t eat, sleep, work or even go out of the house most of the time.”
“There might be a hint of psychosomatic symptoms there as well.”
“Just a hint? Listen lady, I have a diploma from the crazy people’s school.”
“Is there something that you don’t have?”
“Good luck would be my first guess. But hold on, I was just getting started. I am a mess. I wonder how I’m still standing. My fiancé of six years dumped me and I don’t know why, well maybe I know. I’ve lost my dream job and I don’t know why that happened either. Bloody corporations! My parents decided to destroy our family after 40 years of marriage because they never really knew what they wanted, but now they have us to pay for their mistakes. My OCDs are out of control, the nightmares, the panic attacks, the depression, the anxiety, the phobias, the obsessions and the worst part is that the pills don’t work anymore. Oh Jesus, I’m a mess, I am out of my mind, I feel crap and I’m alone. Talking about pills, would you care for a xanax? It’s my drug of choice.” And he reached for his bag to get the box.
“I have something better. We can share if you want.”
“You are the doctor; of course you have something better. You keep the best for yourselves. Very kind of you to share though. I would love one.”
“Here you are. Take this with some water. Just give it a couple of minutes.”
“Thanks for the cocktail, doc.”
Two minutes later.
“Yes. There it is. Things already look better.”
“I’m a doctor, trust me.”
“And I am a very sick, sick man; I will trust you, I don’t think I have a choice. You know, this is the first time I talk to somebody about my situation, especially the family part. I feel like I am going to burst in to tears any moment now, but at the same time I feel like a huge weight, that I was carrying on my shoulders for years has been lifted. I feel relieved. I can breathe.”
“I understand what you are going through. I am in a bad place as well. The worst period of my life so far. My fiancé, or ex or whatever, is a doctor as well and a fucking creep. He pushed me to set the wedding date and start planning everything and about a couple of weeks ago, I found out that at the hospital where he works there isn’t a single lady doctor or nurse that hasn’t tasted his willy. He just can’t keep it in his scrubs. One of the nurses emailed to her friends a photo of her having a threesome with “Doctor Dick” and a corpse in the morgue. Somehow, this email was sent to me as well. Bitch! I had a nervous breakdown and I was admitted to a clinic, in order not to harm myself or him or them and now I am heading back to meet with my parents.”
“You didn’t escape, did you? I’m joking. That’s a bummer, I’ m really sorry.”
“No, they let me go. Listen, I like talking to you, you seem like a nice guy and you make me smile and feel better, but I am so tired. I can’t keep my eyes open. I haven’t slept in days, do you mind if I doze off for a while?”
“Not at all, I mean if you can. I can’t do it, no matter how tired I am. The stewardesses are waiting for you to fall asleep and they slowly come over your head and they shout in your ear: Tea, coffee!!! And they just mess you up, it is horrifying, a true nightmare. The planes should have a do not disturb button. You press it the light goes on. I don’t want no tea, no coffee, no peanuts, I just want to sleep! No?”
He turned around and she was fast asleep. She looked so tired, exhausted, but at the same time she looked so peaceful. “Poor girl… You slimy, corpse raping creep, you necrophiliac bastard. Let’s put some music on. I would kill for a cigarette, I miss the good ol’ days” he said to himself and he started tripping to the music and his new favorite prescription medication for about an hour, until the pilot announced the trip was coming to an end. Both trips.
“Melanie, sorry to wake you up. We are about to land. You should put your seatbelt on.”
“Oh ok, thanks. Listen, sorry for falling asleep in the middle of our conversation.”
“It happens all the time, apparently I am a very boring, sleep inducing person. I have made my peace with it.”
“No, the opposite. That’s why I was wondering if you would like me to give you my phone number and you can call whenever you can to meet for a coffee and chat more about our shitty lives.”
“Sure. I would love that.”
It was a smooth landing. They left the plane and waited for the luggage.
“I don’t have any suitcases, but I will keep you company until yours arrives.”
“You are very kind. A true gentleman.”
“I only blame my mom for that. It is very wrong that she raised me right. What would she say if I left you here alone? She would hit me on the head with the mixer.”
The suitcase arrived. A cherry red one with a big pink bow on it. He offered to assist her, she smiled and they moved towards the exit.
“So, which part of the city are you going to?” She asked.
“To the centre. You? “
“I’m heading west.”
“That’s too bad. We could have shared a ride. I really enjoy your company. But it’s ok, you have my number.”
“Sure. It was very nice meeting you. It helped a lot talking to you or at least it made the flight much bearable.”
“Goodbye, take care.”
He turned around and headed to the train station, bought a one-way ticket from the automatic vendor and waited at the platform for the train to arrive.
He was trying to reach into his pocket for the lighter so he could at last have the cigarette he was so much craving and his fingers came across a small piece of paper. It had Melanie’s phone number written on it. He ripped it up, turned around and threw it in the bin. He couldn’t keep it. It was against his newly found scheme. “Farewell Melanie. It was nice meeting you.” The train arrived. He entered trying not to touch anything.
“You dirty, stinking germs.”