I’m the Devil.
You could smell the fumes of alcohol and bad breath mixing together in a musty cloud every time she opened her mouth to talk. If she wasn’t completely drunk, she had to have been crazy. I sat there with my headphones on with the volume at just below ear bleeding levels, all in an attempt to drown out her incessant talking, and yelling–usually thrown in my direction. At one point she thrashed about, leaning across the armrest, invading every amount of personal space I had, pressing me closer and closer to the window. Was she playing the air drums?
My flight had already been delayed an hour, a red-eye flight to New York City from Seattle. I was exhausted from a longer and busier than usual day, and just ready to get on the plane, settle into my exit row window seat and get some sleep.
I quickly boarded the plane, wrapped the pillow around my neck, threw on my headphones, settled in and closed my eyes. Sleep came immediately. Somewhere in the midst of my short slumber, my tormenter sat next to me. The “ding” of the 10,000 foot altitude mark startled me awake and my tormenter gave me the side eye. Had I jumped when I woke up? Had I somehow overtaken her half of the shared armrest? Had I inadvertently man spread in my sleep leaving her crowded in the undesirable middle seat? I gave her a smile and attempted to avoid the side-eye. She glared at me and began talking… loudly.
I pulled back my headphones to listen to what seemed to be gibberish. What was she saying? I couldn’t quite understand her, so I nodded along for a few moments before she stopped. “Goodnight,” I said as I nodded kindly and returned my headphones to my ears and drifted off to sleep. It didn’t last long.
The cloud of alcohol and bad breath overwhelmed my nostrils, and through my headphones I could hear her shouting at me. I opened my eyes, not sure what I was going to see. “You never liked me did you?” She yelled. “You think you’re better than me don’t you? That you’re somehow superior!” Over and over she repeated these lines like a shouted mantra.
When mentally incapacitated people hurl things like this at me on the street it’s easy to simply move away, walk around, and dodge them; so as to not create an incident of some sort. A few months ago late in the evening while waiting for a bus, a man started shouting at me, accusing me of taking his kids, of replacing him in the arms of his wife. He was 10-yards away, a good distance. And every time he drew a step closer I would take step or two away, put my hands up in surrender and apologize. Hoping that this small gesture would somehow ease his pain.
However, at 35,000 feet, on an airplane, when the person is right next to you, it’s a different story. Where do you go? The plane was completely full. I suppose I could have moved to the flight attendants area, or just sat in a bathroom… How do you diffuse this type of situation?
I chose to ignore her. Whether this was the best option or not, I’m not quite sure. I know that engagement in conversation was more than likely a non-starter, and could have escalated the situation somehow. So, I closed my eyes and turned up the volume on my headphones. Her shouting got louder. “You’re the Devil!” she yelled loud enough to pierce the sound barrier I had hoped to create with the soothing sounds of Yo Yo Ma
Eventually she quieted down and I peeked, ever so slightly out of my left eye in the hopes that I would find her passed out or asleep. Instead she was attempting to, what looked like snuggle with the lady on the other side of her. The poor woman sat there with her body rigid and as tense as a board. Her ear plugs were firmly pressed into her ears and a sleep mask covering her eyes. She didn’t move. For a moment I felt bad for my seat mate, but only for a moment. Relief settled in and I thought ‘Now maybe I can get some sleep!’ It didn’t last long.
I dozed off for perhaps 15 minutes before being awakened by her thrashing about. The entire row of seats rocking back and forth, her hair flying and whipping me in the face. I watched as she kicked and punched, crossing back and forth over the arm rest flailing in a rhythmic spasm. I squeezed myself closer and closer to the window ducking and dodging what at first I thought were punches… wait, is she air drumming? She is! What on earth?! A fifth passenger now rang a call button behind us, what I believe wasn’t for a drink or some food, but rather to rescue me and my seat-mate from our tormenter. It was a momentary respite.
She thrashed about and I tried to sleep, somehow finally succumbing to the exhaustion that overtook me. When I awoke a short time later, I woke up with my eyes closed–a trick I’ve mastered to perfection in parenthood. As I sat there attempting to feel out my surroundings, a feeling of dread began to overtake me. I’m not quite sure what it was, but it was palpable, almost as if I were in danger of some sort. I gave in to the fear and opened my eyes to see her no more than 12 inches away from my face, glaring at me with a look of death.
I slowly pulled back my headphones and kindly asked, “is there something you need?” She simply glared at me, slowly retreating back into her own space before unleashing a slew of profanities my way, calling me everything in the book before turning it around and yelling, “Why would you say those things about me?”
My eyes grew big, “What?” I asked.
“Why would you say those things? Why would you tell me that I’m worthless, don’t you know I already know that? I wish I were dead. I wish this plane would go down right now and that I’d just be dead!” And then she stopped. Grew quiet. Closed her eyes and laid back. I quickly prayed for peace over her spirit, over her body, over her soul, that whatever was tormenting her would relent. I leaned back and watched her out of my left eye for a few moments. Maybe now I can finally get some sleep.
I settled in, and closed my eyes just in time to hear the *Ding*. “Flight Attendants would you please prepare the cabin for arrival.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. It had been four-and-a-half hours this.
The plane began its descent into New York City and the yelling returned. “We’re all going to die! This plane is going to crash!” It took me four-and-a-half hours, but I finally found the proper headphones volume and album to drown her out. (Thank you Kendrick Lamar).
We made it to our gate and she immediately bolted off the plane. “Thank you so much for your patience,” the flight attendant offered apologetically.
My fellow tormented seat-mate pulled back her eye mask; she was so completely exhausted and exasperated. She leaned towards me and offered her hand, “It’s so nice to finally meet the devil.”
My experience as an interfaith chaplain inside the CHAZ / CHOP in Seattle.