The Conspiracy, Part 6: Leaving Las Vegas

The plane started to rumble again.

Uggh.  I hate flying.

As I squirmed in my seat, my Dad looked over.

"You know, I could fall asleep if you would stop grabbing the seat in front of you."

And I could sleep if the plane would just land.

"Why are you so jumpy today?"

"Today?  I'm always this way on a plane."

"No, usually you just grab the seat in front of you, mumble the Lord's Prayer and pop Xanax."

That sounded familiar.

"Contrast that with today.  You went up and down the aisle slowly, trying to discern which passenger was the air marshal.  You checked every overhead bin to make sure there wasn't a hole to the outside.  Five minutes ago, you asked the flight attendant if they had visual proof that the pilot was conscious."

"How did you hear that?  I thought you were asleep."

"I was--but I always need to have one ear open when I'm with you on a plane.  I don't want to end up being led off the plane after an emergency landing to deplane the psycho."

"Your point?"

"My point is that you seem extra edgy today.  Even more so than a typical ride home from Vegas.  And that's a lot of past flights.  A lot of history."

At that point, a flight attendant came over.  His name tag read "Harry".

"Sir," he said as he reached up to turn off the call button, "this is the fourth time you have pressed the call button.  Is this a real request this time?  Or are you going to ask for the plane's blueprints?"

The thought had occurred to me...but I fought the urge to formally ask.

"Sorry,  I was looking for the reading light.  I didn't realize I had hit the call button."

"That's actually an old one--I was ready for something closer to asking if the country's threat level had moved to red."

Nothing I like better than a smart aleck flight attendant.  Although I probably deserved it.

"No--besides, I have an app that tells me the threat level at any point in time."

"I'm sure you do sir."

As the flight attendant walked away, I realized I still had the judging gaze of my father affixed on me.

"Is this about the app?"

"It's about everything.  What is wrong?"

"Do you remember the three Royal Flushes?"

"The ones you haven't stopped talking about?  Wait a minute--is this that 'Bettor's Balance' theory?  That's almost crazier than your fear of flying."

"I don't expect you to understand, Dad.  But the universe..."

"Has a way of making you drive everyone crazy?"

This was hopeless.  I love the man but he was going to do this for the rest of the flight.

"This is almost as crazy as the time you thought your dog could talk."

No sooner had his words ended, but I thought I heard a faint snicker coming from the overhead bin above my seat.  Then the plane shook.

I need another drink.  I pushed the call button.  Again.

TO BE CONTINUED