Dragonfly Dreams, Part Three

The flight had been long and tedious. Frank Mason just wanted to have a vodka tonic (or three) and take a nap. Martha Miller, the self-proclaimed psychic, on the other hand turned out to also be a chatter box. She talked nonstop the entire trip. She asked about his job with the company. She asked about his hobbies and what books he liked reading. She even asked if he was dating anyone!

Frank thought that she asked an awful lot of questions, but the even stranger thing about it was that he found himself just blabbing away. It was almost as if he couldn’t help himself. There was something strangely comforting about the woman…even if she did get on his nerves. Now how was that for an oxymoron!

He closed his eyes as the plane began its descent into the sticky heat of a typical Brazilian day. Even in the air-conditioned comfort of first class, he could feel the strength of the sun bursting through the little window. He lowered the shade. He hated to watch the ground rush up toward him. Too many things could go wrong.

“Don’t worry,” Martha Miller said beside him, “We aren’t going to crash. I’m psychic…remember? I haven’t had any bad omens for this flight.”

She tapped her forehead. Frank smiled wanly and gave her a nod. He still wasn’t sure if she was serious or just a little kooky. Was it possible to be a little of both? Maybe she could tell him what the company wanted them to do in Brazil. He was just getting ready to ask her when the plane bumped onto the runway.

“Welcome to Guarulhos International Airport,” a pleasant female voice announced over the intercom, “We hope that you enjoyed your flight and that you have a pleasant time in the beautiful country of Brazil. Please have your passport ready for customs. Have a great day!”

The message was immediately repeated in Spanish. While this was going on, Martha had jumped up and was quickly rummaging for bag in the overhead compartment. She moved quickly for a larger person. Frank was impressed.

“Listen Mr. Mason,” Martha said, “When we get off this plane, I’m gonna run to the bathroom real fast. I am about to bust! I hate peeing in these little airplane bathrooms. I’m always afraid that I’m gonna get stuck in them…or worse, fall out into the aisle!”

Frank nodded and tried not to act embarrassed. Martha, meanwhile, continued to rummage in the overhead compartment.

“I swear,” she said irritably, “I just hate the way that everything gets all jumbled on these planes.”

She finally managed to drag her large, black bag out of the overhead. People were already starting to line up to get off of the plane. Martha stood to block the people behind and allowed Frank to get up. Grabbing his own case, he walked slowly up the aisle.

Everybody seemed to be moving slower than ever. He hated to be jammed in a plane like this. Martha was pressed right up against him. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck.

“I wish that they would hurry up,” she whispered in his ear, “I’ve really gotta go!”

Soon they were off of the plane and into the equally crowded airport. Frank had only traveled out of the country once before, and the experience of being in a foreign place was still a strange experience for him. All around him people were scattering to the left and right. And Spanish filled the air. He had learned a few phrases since joining Gaia, but he couldn’t rely on what few phrases he had picked up…unless he just wanted to ask for a cheeseburger or where the bathrooms were.

And speaking of bathrooms, Martha Miller flung her big, black bag toward him and headed off toward a sign which read banos…or bathrooms.

“Hold that, will ya’ sweetie?” she called out over her shoulder, “I don’t want to set it down in…something. I won’t be too long.”

If Frank had ever been a married man, he would have known what it felt like to hold a woman’s purse while she shopped, tried on clothes…or visited bathrooms in foreign lands. As it was, he felt a little bit awkward. Nobody was paying him any attention though. They were all too busy gathering their paperwork together for customs, stretching after long flights, or lighting up a cigarette. Apparently, smoking wasn’t frowned upon in airports here!

Just then Frank saw him. A man was leaning up against the wall at the far end of the hallway. He was staring at Frank and then looking at a piece of paper which he held crumpled in his left hand. He looked once more at Frank and frowned. Then he started to walk slowly toward him. But all that Frank saw was the tattoo on the man’s bulging bicep. The tattoo was of a large, brown monkey holding a banana that was larger than its entire body. Frank was looking at the man with the monkey. And the man with the monkey was headed straight for him!

Panic rising in him like high-tide, he quickly glanced toward the bathrooms. There was no sign of Martha Miller anywhere. She was the one who had told him to watch out for the man with the monkey! Why hadn’t she warned him that the man with the monkey was going to be so close? What good was a psychic if they couldn’t be any clearer than that?

He looked back. The man was almost up to him. Frank let out a hiss. The man was reaching into his pocket! Was he going to pull out a knife….a gun? With a loud whoop, Frank swung Martha’s bag, knocking the man ( and a few other people ) down to the floor. Without looking back, he ran wildly down the hallway, pushing through the crowd like a madman. He had to get away. He would find Martha later.

People started screaming. He knew that he was causing a panic, but it couldn’t be helped. Up ahead, he saw a group of nuns walking toward him. They were practically blocking the entire hallway! He ran toward them, pushing people out of the way to the left and right.

“Out of the way sisters!” he yelled. He didn’t know if they just didn’t understand English or if they just liked getting in the way….probably a bit of both…..but the nuns just stood there. He started to push his way through….and that is where his luck ran out. More screams….more pushing….and then the sharp, shrill whistle of the police sounded.

Two cops pounced on him. They were both large men….heavyset due to the low demand of an airport security job. But now they had a new victim. Frank fell to the floor as the cops landed on top of him. He guessed that pushing nuns wasn’t allowed….even in a country where people smoked in the airports.

Frank glanced around as he felt a pair of handcuffs clap around his wrists. Someone was shouting angrily at him in Spanish. It was one of the nuns! One of the other nuns crossed herself and started to pray. There was no sight of the man with the tattoo of the monkey.

Later, Frank would remember that this was the exact moment when things went from bad….to worse.

Until next week, class dismissed!