Thomas and Friends

Standing to the side of the line, patiently waiting for my order number to be called, I wondered what made people decide they wanted to work at airport food courts. Each day they would have to drive a long way just to spend hours serving cranky travelers who complained about overpriced food. It was always a pleasant surprise when I interacted with a cashier who smiled and asked how my travels were. The cashier at the burger store today was that way and spent a bit of time conversing with me as I paid, despite the long wait line. I could hear the man behind me sigh loudly and I pictured him rolling his eyes. I watched as he ordered his food now at the counter, his foot tapping impatiently. He was wearing pressed khakis, worn loafers, and a tight dress shirt folded up to his elbows. His briefcase was stocky, yet he carried it with great care most likely due to an expensive corporate laptop.

“Seriously, seven dollars for the fries? Ridiculous.” I overheard him snap. The cashier chuckled nervously and shrugged, going on to comment how it was so far a smooth day of travel for most of the customers and he wished the same to the man. After paying, the man moved to the side, squinting at his receipt and blocking the path to the counter as others moved around him. When my order number was called, I thanked the workers behind the counter and gave the man a blatant glare for disrespecting the kind cashier before walking away. I hoped he understood how rare it was for airport food workers, or anybody in this place, to show patience.

I ate while waiting at my gate; it would be another thirty minutes before boarding. I looked around at the travelers near me slumped over watching shows on their phones, reading books, or taking a doze. There was a single man sitting with a hood draped over his head. Perhaps he was an undercover air marshal posing as a weary traveler flying to visit his daughter at her new home. Two giggling girls sat next to him – teenagers most likely reviewing their vacation to an amusement park. I enjoyed thinking of backgrounds for each of the travelers – reasons they were flying on a Sunday afternoon. Sometimes, if the stories lined up, there was a potential for formed connections: fleeting friendships. I read a story in the paper about a couple that met at the airport security line and talked until they had to go their separate ways. They continued their friendship long-distance and eventually got married. I had faith that in such a generally hostile environment some good could come about, just like the kind cashiers.

From the corner of my eye I saw a young mother carrying a toddler in one hand and dragging a suitcase in the other race up to the counter and ask which flight had just left the gate. She must have not missed her flight, for she sat down to catch her breath. A curly-haired five-year-old, or near that age, trailed behind her clutching a Thomas the Train toy. He ran around the seat making train noises, almost tripping over other people’s bags in the aisle. His mom called out to him fiercely and pulled out her phone, handing it to him as he came to sit by her seat while muttering under his breath. The mother seemed exhausted, her dry, red hair tied in a messy bun and her blinks slow and lethargic. It was as if they were a family on the run from a dismal situation but the mother made up a story for the children about why they were leaving. The five-year-old pawed at his mother’s leg, asking for some food before they boarded, I guessed, and the three of them jolted off to try to make it back in time. Maybe they would go to that burger place, meet that kind cashier, and make a temporary friend.

The airline representative at the counter made an announcement over the microphone: boarding would begin in ten minutes. I made my way to the restroom. After many years of trial and error deciding if it was too late to use the restroom before boarding started, I discovered the optimal time to go was right when the representative announced boarding soon. As I washed my hands, I noticed a large woman to the right of me staring at the water streaming from her faucet. She tested the temperature by first dipping her pinky in the water before finally lathering her hands in soap and soaking them, rubbing her palms together. Unaware that I was watching from the side, she peered periodically in the mirror as if to check her appearance without others knowing. She looked older, with darker, tan-colored skin and wispy dark grey hair that covered the edges of her face. Her beady, narrow eyes were swallowed in her chubby cheeks and made her look as if she had just finished a flight where the attendant had woken her from a nap she hadn’t finished. I imagined her crossing the country on three flights; a last-minute call home or a recent family passing. She didn’t seem sad, though, simply impassive. As she turned to grab a paper towel, I met her eyes, hoping to pass on some understanding and connection, if she secretly needed it.

As I headed back to the gate, they announced boarding. I held my breath as I entered the plane, just like I always do to slowly adjust to smelling the stuffy, quarantine-like cabin air. The flight attendants turned the air circulation to maximum capacity, but when I sat down, the cold air blasted directly into my eyes and I had to squint away before shutting it off. I didn’t put on my seatbelt yet. By now I knew the wasted effort of throwing it on only to remove it as two others would pile in my row. Still, I only booked aisle seats. I craved the freedom to leave the seat, stretch my legs into the aisle, and watch others.

Slowly, others began to file in, and I watched members of the front-right row from me struggle to get settled. To my surprise, first came the woman from the bathroom. She was too fat to move through the aisle without rubbing her bulging stomach against already-sitting passengers’ arms. When she reached her row, she pushed the arm rests up on both sides of the seat and plopped down. She seemed as if she would lean the seat back for a snooze the entire flight. I decided to call her Mona, for she reminded me of a lady on a previous flight of a similar countenance named Mona who talked to me the entire six-hour flight explaining her crazy family. Today’s Mona had just finished adjusting her seatbelt to fit her girth when a middle-aged man in his twenties began to approach. I raised my eyebrows when I recognized the rude man from the burger shop. I could see the color in his face drain about two rows before as he looked up, counting the numbers and hoping he wouldn’t be stuck in Mona’s row. Finally, he found himself standing in front of her, asking to move into the window seat. I decided Dexter was a fitting name. It wasn’t entirely generic like typical white male appellations, yet his outfit and behavior to the kind cashier begged a name such as that. Dexter squeezed by Mona and sat, looking to his left and right to find the seatbelt. He grimaced, probably noticing bits of cheese crackers, dust, and dried gum trapped in the edge of the seat. His cushion was most likely flat from the previous passenger on another six-hour flight for he squirmed and shuddered at the thought. Of course, from my angle I could only see his tall head peeking up from the seat, some of his shoulders, and a little bit of the seatback in front of him.

As the remainder of the economy cabin piled in, Dexter pulled out his corporate laptop from his briefcase and pulled up his email, madly replying to them before airplane mode kicked in. Mona had begun to doze. From a distance, I could see the young mother pile in at the front of the plane with her toddler. They had gotten food, but in the process missed the family boarding section. The five-year-old still clutched his Thomas the Train toy in his hand. He began rolling it along the arm rests of the aisle seats and sulking at passengers who rested against theirs, thus forcing him to skip that ‘train track’. He began to shout observations that really nobody else could observe, such as: “Mommy, why is it so smelly in here? Why is he sleeping already? Can we go home now? I’m tired. I hate planes. I’m hungry. Why are there so many people?”

The grimaces turned toward them as they approached, but slowly faded with satisfaction as the family of three passed further and further from first class back to economy. They finally parked in the row to the front-left of Mona and Dexter’s and the mother struggled to strap her five-year-old into the seat as he continued to roll Thomas across the seatbacks in front of him. The mom finally clicked his seatbelt just as he rolled the train over her and Thomas flew and hit Mona in the leg. Mona popped open one eye and stared at the family, then down at Thomas. Her face was pensive and confounding, as if staring into Thomas’ tiny, plastic soul and feeling his discomfort on the floor. I thought the train’s plastered smile was rather strange; his beady eyes were unmoving: always staring, observing, and judging silently. I had not seen the show before, but from what I understood it taught lessons about responsibility, kindness, and, from the title, friendship. The mother apologized profusely and bent to pick up Thomas but ended up bumping her baby’s head against the armrest that Mona had propped up and the baby let out a sharp wail. The line behind the family began to pile up. Dexter looked at the young mother for a moment before returning to type madly on his laptop. Finally, the young mother settled in her five-year-old and toddler, pressing the screen on the seatback to search for a show for her child to watch.

Minutes later, we settled in the air. I stared at the screen in front of me, watching the airplane icon move the slightest in its line to our destination. The clock on the top ticked. Time remaining: six hours. The cabin lights were dim except for a small spotlight at Dexter’s seat. He was now no longer on emails but completing a spreadsheet. His head bobbled from side to side as he mentally calculated and inserted the cells. I had seen a few Dexters in the past year on my flights, but none quite this agitated. I never initiated conversations with Dexters, afraid of bothering the intense, work-stricken travelers, but I had a few in the past who made time to ask after my day. Today’s Dexter did not seem interested in anybody in his vicinity. In the row in front of him, I could hear rustling from the five-year-old. He was bouncing up and down in his seat, crawling around even though the seat-belt sign was lit, and poking his younger sibling in the cheeks. The mother lectured him in a quiet, stern voice.

“Freddie, stop that. Stop. Here, watch Thomas and Friends! Look at the blue train, it matches yours, see?” She pointed to his Thomas. “Food? Food is coming soon. Want some cheese sticks?” And seconds later a shrill holler and a cheese stick flying to hit Mona in the stomach. She opened one eye and eyed the young mother. Dexter also looked up and muttered something under his breath. He ransacked his briefcase, set on the middle seat between him and Mona, before finding his wireless headphones and sliding them on. Mona shifted her feet to move the cheese stick back into the aisle and the mother had to bend backwards to retrieve it, mumbling an apology to Mona, who simply closed her eyes again.

One hour into the flight, the seat-belt sign blinked off. After the captain made an announcement that people could now move about the cabin, the young mother stood, hoisting the young baby on her shoulder and moving quickly to the back of the plane. I saw Freddie’s head poke into the aisle and he peered side to side, and then rested his gaze on the sleeping Mona. He crawled out of his row and waddled over to Mona, poking her in the stomach and setting Thomas on her arm.

“Excuse me, I’m hungry,” he yelled at Mona.

Mona cracked open her left eye again and blinked at the young kid and then at Thomas. She said nothing. I was surprised she made no attempt to remove the train from her body. Freddie looked over at Dexter, who was working quietly.

“Excuse me! I’m hungry.” He spoke at Dexter this time. I could imagine Dexter breathe in and out calmly and glare fiercely at the young boy. Other passengers around Freddie began to move restlessly. I remained patient in these stressful situations, but it was exactly times with annoying kids where air travel was known for its hostility.

“Do you like Thomas? He’s the fastest train. And the leader. Just like me at school.”

I pursed my lips, unsure that little Freddie was gaining what he should from the show. I pictured Dexter continuing to type. At least he didn’t retort, which was an improvement from earlier today.

“Do you like Thomas? Here! He’ll travel over to you and can come back to me like he does on his road!” Freddie threw Thomas at Dexter and it hit his laptop before bouncing to the ground. Dexter turned toward Freddie but made no attempt to retrieve the train.

A flight attendant rushed over and knelt to meet Freddie eye to eye. “Hi there, young man. Can we get you back in your seat?” She looked up with narrowed eyebrows at another flight attendant who had come from behind Freddie. The plane had begun to shake slightly, and the seat belt sign had blinked back on. Freddie suddenly began to panic, realizing Dexter would not return Thomas and that his mother was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Thomas? Where’s mommy?” He began to bat his arms at the flight attendants who closed in on him with raised arms. Freddie’s cries began to increase in pitch, and the alarmed flight attendants backed off. Mona’s eye remained open and she continued staring at Freddie, whose own eyes were now closed with tears streaming down his face. Suddenly, the young mother came rushing from the restroom in the back with the toddler. She pushed the flight attendant to the side and knelt to comfort Freddie, who still batted his arms blindly. Now, everyone in economy seemed invested or annoyed at the situation as people began to murmur. I began to feel slight panic for the mother, who was being silently shamed by strangers she had never met before. Even Mona’s blank stare of indifference worked against her. I could only grimace, shake my head, and shrug helplessly to appease surrounding travelers who met my gaze to try to connect through irritation. The couple across from me rolled their eyes at me as if to say, can you believe this is happening?
The young mother dragged Freddie by the hand to toss him back in the seat, but he screeched and clawed at her, accidentally scratching his younger sibling’s face. The toddler wailed and the young mother let out a cry while pulling away from Freddie. The two flight attendants raised their voices, attempting to control the mother backing into the aisle and Freddie’s screams.

From the corner of my eyes, Dexter yanked his earphones off and stood at his seat, grabbing Thomas from the ground and hoisting the tiny blue train in the air while letting out a deep roar. “Would you shut the kid up?”

There was sudden silence across the cabin as everybody, even Freddie, froze from shock. Thomas’ face still maintained its happy, unmoving smile as he was held in Dexter’s hand. Mona turned to look at Dexter, who looked as if about to charge into war with Thomas at his side. Then, she began to chuckle to herself quietly, and then louder and louder until she was guffawing with every muscle in her body, tears of laughter springing to her eyes. And for some reason, everybody in the cabin began to laugh with her; even myself, and even Dexter.