maybe i'll write a story . . .

[Evelyn]

i read the rules, and unlike everyone else, i can't write lyrics, so i shall write a story. just give me a minute.

okay i wrote this on a plane . . .

Waiting for a late plane is not fun. But when it does come; two hours late, I might add, relief floods through you as you realize now you?re finally on your way. But, another thing that is not fun is being in the middle seat and having two total strangers on either side of you. Oh, but it can be worse. And do you know how it can be worse? Well actually you don?t, because you are not me. Lucky you.

This is how my situation got worse: On one side, we have a rather large woman, who seemly takes up her seat and most of mine, too. Her name, (I gave her a name, just because I thought she fit it) is Priscilla. I am not quite sure why I gave her this name. I believe it is because of my aunt, by the same name. She was also rather large. Now, she is gone. Not like she-ran-away-gone or I?m-sorry-for-your-loss gone. She?s crazy. She?s in the insane asylum section of the hospital. She walks in figure eight all day, muttering about John Lennon still being alive in her closet.

Before her mind left, she was a nice woman. Her only fault is that she wore disgusting amounts of make-up. It looked as if she had five or six inches caked on.

I thought of this as I took my seat next to Priscilla. She smiled, her large cheeks gathering into oddly shaped dimples. I gave a closed mouth smile back.

I sat down and took a look around me as my other seat-mate sat down next to me. This, my friend is where it gets really bad.

This woman who sat beside me was probably around my mother?s age, early to mid fifties. She was most likely a mother herself, because of the way she looked disapprovingly at the dust between the seats. Either a mother or a neat freak.

Then, she began to talk.

When I say talk, I mean, not-taking-a-breath-talking, asking me questions and then answering them herself, and even then the answers were generally wrong. I think that is any type or kind of natural disasters were to occur, or a any disaster for that matter, she would continue to talk.

She talked about her husband, her children, why she was headed to Boston, why she doesn?t live on the east coast, why she should.

This woman told me things that shouldn?t have, and didn?t tell me things she should have. Like her name, for instance. I now know her husband?s name, each of her eight children?s names, and all of her sibling?s names (she is one out of ten). But not hers. I decided to name her Stacey. I had a friend in elementary school named Stacey. My airplane Stacey is my elementary school Stacey?s future self. What a future she has to look forward to.

Luckily, this particular flight was only an hour. I humored Stacey the whole way, nodding and ?umm?ing even as I read my book. She seemed to be satisfied.

The next flight was to be four hours long. I was giddy as I saw I wasn?t seated next to another Priscilla and Stacey again.

I was sitting next to two college-age girls who didn?t know each other, but found they were headed back to the same college after spring break. All three of us had a lengthy conversation involving every thing from Europe and job outlook to the sad state of the world. We exchanged screen names before we left the plane.

My niece and I had agreed to meet just outside security, and when I got there, she wasn?t here, so I found a bench and sat.

This airport is a popular one, so people watching is extremely interesting. I smiled as a toddler almost ran past the security check point and laughed as his mother chased after him. I watched a couple on the moving walkway kiss, probably the last kiss for a month or so. I watched slim French women with their eyebrows knit together in frusation, probably because they couldn?t read the signs.

what next?

[edna]

I enjoyed reading it, Evelyn... sounds like a real story... slices of life.

[Harguitay]

Nice. The best stories are about everyday life, and they don't take a lifetime to write.

[Earth-Angel]

Some really good imagery! A nice read on a lazy saturday

[Evelyn]

where do u think i should go next with it? i wrote this bit about her niee coming and tell her grandma is dead and then the woman (hm. she doesn't have a name, does she?) screaming at the niece that she killed grandma. i didn't like it so i didn't type it up.

Suggestions?

[Harguitay]

Why didn't you like it?

[Evelyn]

Because it got too deep. this story seems like a very light one, and the extra part i wrote was about her dead mother. I didn't think it fit. Any suggestions?