A short story about living without thinking and thinking without living.
“Welcome aboard.”
The flight attendant nodded as Jason entered the cabin and Jason nodded back. He walked slowly down the aisle, scanning each row for the right seat number. He double-checked the number on his ticket and stopped when he got to 24B.
He checked his ticket again, then checked the seat again. Middle seat.
He scooched in and plopped down. He thought about taking the window seat but decided against it. It wasn’t assigned to him. Someone might show up, which would be awkward. No, he decided, better to play it safe.
Jason tightened his seatbelt, loosened it, then tightened it again. He ducked his head a little to peek out the window at the tarmac outside. A wavy orange sun hung heavily near the horizon.
He’d never been fond of flying. It was the loss of control or something. For him, a plane felt like a tin can at the mercy of wind and weather. And the pilot was a stranger you couldn’t see or hear. And you’re up in the air with nowhere to go, and nothing to do but think.
“Excuse me,” said a voice. Jason looked up to see a man squeezing past his knees to the window seat.
Yeah, Jason thought. That figures.
The man was tall, in a rumpled suit, and his face was flushed with sweat. He was still breathing hard as he collapsed into the seat, shoving his carry-on underneath with a clumsy kick.
“Whew! Just made it,” he said, wiping his forehead. “Flight almost left without me.”
Jason nodded but didn’t pry. He fidgeted with an in-flight magazine, pretending to read about an exotic island he’d never visit. Out of the corner of his eye, Jason observed the man next to him.
He was older, maybe forty, but not settling into age. His hair was peppered with gray, but messy like he’d been running his hands through it. His shirt was half-untucked, as though he’d gotten dressed in a hurry. As the man’s breathing slowed, he would occasionally glance at the front of the plane, as if waiting for someone to join him.
Jason turned back to his magazine, pretending not to notice. He was already feeling on edge, and had been for months. Finishing college was supposed to be the hard part. But now, stepping into the real world felt like the bigger, more confusing leap. He was applying for jobs that didn’t excite him and second-guessing every choice he made. Living with his parents was fine for now, but it wasn’t home anymore, not really. He felt stuck, like he was circling and waiting for something to happen.
The man next to him gave a sigh and leaned back. “God, it’s hot today.” He tugged at his collar and gave a grunt of relief. “Feels like I’m still running.”
Jason nodded again, not sure what to say. He didn’t feel like conversation. He preferred a bit of peace and quiet. He had enough going on, fears looping in his head one after another in an endless spiral. Where was he going in life? How did everyone else seem to know what they were doing? Why did every decision feel like the wrong one?
The man pulled out some gum and offered Jason a piece.
“No thanks,” Jason said, forcing a smile.
“Suit yourself.” The man popped a piece in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. He side-eyed Jason for a second, then turned with a smirk. “You’re nervous, huh? You keep fidgeting.”
“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” Jason admitted. “I’m not a big fan of flying.”
The man chuckled. “It’s not the flying that gets you. It’s the waiting around. The sitting and thinking.” The man pushed the pack of gum back into his pocket. “But once you’re up there, you’re moving.” The man zoomed his hand through the air, “But down here, you’re stuck. There’s nothing to do but think, and feel, and go crazy.”
Jason thought about it. He actually liked stillness, but he guessed it made sense. He looked at the man more carefully. There was something jittery about him, an energy that didn’t quite match his easy words. He kept shifting in his seat, glancing at his watch, glancing at the front of the plane. His foot tapped a rapid beat on the floor.
“Yeah, I’m probably thinking too much.” Jason acknowledged.
“Yeah? About what?”
“Oh.” Jason shrugged. “I don’t know. All of it. You know. What I’m doing with my life. What I should be doing. How to, you know, make things happen.”
The man laughed sharply, like he was swallowing something bitter. “Kid, you do think too much. My philosophy? If you want something—go get it. You want to do something? Go do it. Easy. You gotta stop living up here,” he said, tapping his forehead, “and start living out there.” He jerked his thumb at the window.
“Well, you know, it’s not always that simple,” Jason argued, almost reflexively. He was used to this argument—his own mind was a constant battlefield of what-ifs and how-to’s. “I mean, you can’t just do whatever you want. There’s consequences. Responsibilities. You know what I mean.”
“Screw consequences,” the man said, grinning. “Look, you got one life. You spend it worrying about the next move, you’re gonna end up stuck. Like quicksand. The more you think, the deeper you sink.” The man smiled at his rhyme. “Yeah, that’s pretty good: ‘The more you think, the deeper you sink.’ Ha!” The man let out a chuckle and settled more comfortably into his seat.
Jason hesitated, his fingers tracing the edge of his armrest. “Yeah. I don’t know.” Jason tried to gather his thoughts. “I mean…what if you mess up?”
“Who cares?” the man said with a shrug. “Everyone messes up. Look at me.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You think I’ve got it all figured out? Hell no.” He looked both ways and added, “You want to know something?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t even know what seat I’m in right now,” the man smirked as he leaned back towards the window. He let out another chuckle and added, “I just wanted a window seat that was out of the way, and this looked like a good spot.”
“Oh, uh…. Okay.”
The man looked across at Jason’s bewildered expression and explained.
“Look, I just don’t let stuff stop me. If I want a nook by the window, I take it. If I want money or women, I take them. It’s simple, see? I just don’t worry about stuff. You’ve just got to man up and do it.”
Jason didn’t know what to make of this guy. Part of him dismissed it as bluster—just janky pseudo-philosophical tough-guy posturing. But another part of him—a part that was tired of second-guessing all the time—was listening.
“But what if… I mean, what if you’re wrong?” Jason’s voice cracked on the word “wrong” and he felt like a 12-year-old.
The man smiled, but his eyes had a hard edge. “So what? So I’m wrong. But I’m not sitting on my ass wondering. That’s the worst thing you can do. Wonder.”
Jason stared at his seatback ponderously.
“And live in fear,” the man continued.
“What?” Jason asked.
“That’s the other worst thing you can do—live in fear.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Jason leaned back in his seat, staring at the patterned ceiling of the cabin. The overhead lights flickered a bit and the faint hum of air conditioning filled the silence. He knew about living in fear.
He tried to imagine a life untrapped by fear, where he could just act. What would that feel like? What if he could just ask that girl out? Or go crazy and apply for some fun “irresponsible” job in a city he’d never been to before? What would that be like? Was that even practical?
He looked at the man again. The guy was restless, his knee bouncing and his hands fidgeting with the gum wrapper. He kept glancing at the aisle, as if scanning for something. Jason felt uneasy. The man’s jittery energy was infectious.
He noticed the man’s fingers tighten as he watched a flight attendant move to the front of the plane.
“Are you okay?” Jason asked.
The man’s head whipped around, and for a moment, Jason thought he saw panic. But the man laughed, a little too loud. “Yeah, yeah, just… I’m fine. Just not a fan of flying, like you said.”
Jason nodded, “Oh. Okay.”
But it didn’t fit. The man was too alert.
As flight attendants prepared for takeoff, the man shrunk in his seat, pressing himself to the window. He tugged at his collar again and sweat beaded on his forehead.
Jason wanted to tell him it was okay if he wanted the window seat, but, suddenly, there was a commotion at the front of the plane. Jason craned his neck to see what was happening.
Uniformed officers had boarded the plane and their eyes were scanning the rows of passengers. Jason’s heart quickened as he tried to understand what was happening.
The man next to him went still. “Shit,” he whispered. He looked at Jason and tried to look tough again, like he wanted to convince himself of something. “Remember, kid,” he muttered under his breath, “Take what you want…and go.”
Jason opened his mouth to respond, but the officers were already there. “Sir, we need you to come with us.” The man looked up at the uniforms but didn’t move from the window, his body tensed like a spring.
“Sir,” the officer repeated. The man glanced at Jason one last time, then uncoiled, bolting and shoving past Jason into the aisle. The officers moved fast, tackling the man to the ground. There was a chorus of shouting, a scuffle of limbs, and stunned gasps from the other passengers.
Jason sat frozen, his heart pounding and his mind racing to catch up. The man was pinned down, his face pressed to the carpet and his hands cuffed behind him. The officers hauled him up and Jason caught a glimpse of the man’s eyes. He saw, not exactly fear, but a wild, hazy resentment, and regret.
An officer asked Jason for the bag the man had kicked under his seat. Opening the bag, the officer revealed a bundle of cash. “Okay,” he said to the others, “we got it.”
Jason watched dumbstruck as the officers escorted the man down the aisle. Passengers whispered and stood up to get a better view while flight attendants tried to soothe them back to normalcy. Once the front door finally sealed, people started buzzing with laughter. They had just had an adventure—a true story they could tell their friends and family. A bit of excitement in otherwise uneventful lives.
Jason looked at the passengers, and then at the seat where the man had been sitting.
Something shifted. The chaos of the arrest left a strange, ringing silence in Jason’s mind. All the usual what-ifs and worst-case scenarios receded from his mind, and, in their place, a kernel of counsel remained. A small kernel, whittled to a size just right for Jason. The man had been reckless—but there was a core of truth in his recklessness that Jason couldn’t ignore.
“Life is short. Take what you want. Just go.”
The plane’s PA system crackled to life. “Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the delay. We’ll be departing shortly. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened.”
Jason unbuckled his seatbelt and shifted to the window seat for a better view. He thought of all that was possible, forgetting to strap himself back in. He wasn’t going to jail–and he was alive.
“Please turn off your cell phones,” the PA system continued, “as we prepare for takeoff.”
Jason pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through his contacts until he found Mia, the girl he’d been too afraid to ask out for months.
He hesitated, his thumb hovering over her name as familiar doubts began to creep in.
Then he remembered the man’s voice and the last wild look of regret in his eyes before they took him away.
Jason swallowed hard and hit *Call*.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Mia,” Jason said, his voice sounding firmer than he felt. “I was just thinking… maybe we could grab dinner sometime? I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
There was a pause, long enough for Jason to wonder if he’d already blown it.
“Sure,” Mia said, her tone brightening. “I’d like that.”
Jason exhaled, a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Great. Let’s do that.”
As they exchanged details, he heard the plane’s engines roar to life. He hung up, feeling a strange mix of nerves and exhilaration. He was jittery but already floating on air.
Jason leaned back in his seat as the plane taxied to the runway and prepared for takeoff. He didn’t know what would happen next—his dinner with Mia, his career path—but for the first time in a long time, he felt okay.
He smiled as the plane lifted off, staring out the window with a sense of wonder as the world fell away beneath him.
