Airplane Rides by Jake Alexander Read Free Book Online

airplane
had begun its taxi, and Katie returned to collect our drinks, allowing us each
a quick last sip and promising she would return with refills once we were in
the air.  The rage of the jet engines increased my already nervous pulse,
making concentration on my disorganized speaking notes virtually useless.  I
mentally counted the hours until I would be standing before five hundred people
with nothing to say.  I tried to get my thought process moving by rewriting
words more neatly on the yellow pad, but they were the same words, just
slightly more legible.
     
    The noise of the engines had disrupted my seatmate as well. 
When the climb was complete and the engines slowed, he decided that talking
with me might help him pass the time.
    “Do you live in Miami?” he asked.
    “No, just a quick trip,” I responded. “You?”
    “I do, but my office is here in New York,” he replied.
    “How does that work out?” I asked.
    “Fairly well.  I keep a place in town, and I’m up every week.
No luggage, it’s just like taking a longer cab ride,” he answered with a
polished charm.  Obviously he had used the line before.
    “What do you do?” I asked.
    “I’m an attorney,” he responded, extending his hand and
offering his name as if I should know it. “Raymond Trevello.”
    “Pleasure to meet you Raymond,” I replied, giving his big hand
a shake and introducing myself.  “What type of law do you practice?” I asked,
keeping the conversation on him.
    “I’m a defense attorney,” he responded.
    “That must be interesting.”
    “Sometimes,” he responded casually, implying that there were
not many things that could challenge his mighty presence.
     
    I tried again to focus on my notes, but moments later, like the
reminder of a ticking stopwatch, the jet engines slowed, signaling that we had
reached cruising altitude.
    “Christ that was fast,” I thought to myself, trying harder to
focus.
    Just as a worthy thought began to take shape, Katie cheerfully
returned with two fresh drinks, arranging them on the armrest exactly as the
originals had been.
    “Thank you darling,” said Raymond to Katie in a tone that
conveyed both social and gender superiority.
    Katie appeared oblivious to the undertone.
    “You are very welcome,” she replied graciously.
    “You’re a bit young to be working first class?” Raymond further
inquired, referring to the way flight attendants with seniority typically work
the front and far more civilized sections of the aircraft.
    I watched the exchange, the distraction both welcome and
distressing.  It was always interesting to watch another man at work.
    “I’ll take that as a compliment,” replied Katie tactfully,
smiling with her full Midwestern lips and shimmering blue eyes before
retreating forward.
     
    “Pretty girl,” I said complimenting his conversation choice and
testing his reaction.
    “She’s cute, but when you live in South Beach, it raises the
bar a bit,” he replied, implying the young woman was below his standards.
    “I need to get out more,” I said, laughing a bit carelessly and
taking a long draw on my cocktail.
    “What type of clients do you represent?” I asked, changing the
subject.
    “Primarily narcotics offenders,” he replied.
    It reminded me of when my manicurist referred to herself as a
nail technician.
    “Drug dealers?” I clarified plainly.
    “Mostly, yes,” he answered, equally as calm.
    “Ever saved any wrongly accused?” I asked, sounding like I had
read one too many Alan Dershowitz books.
    “No, they’re all guilty!” Raymond responded with a cynical
smile that he washed away with the last of his drink.
    “As long as they pay their bill,” I said, trying to keep the
conversation light.
    “Exactly,” replied Raymond.
     
    Through his window, I could see the sun setting into the
horizon, charging the clouds with bright silver outlines.  It was a beautiful
sight to behold, and for a moment Raymond and I sat quietly in