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The
Great Orange Incident |
| We
were late. My mom, sister and I sat on a few hard plastic chairs, while
my father checked on our plane reservations. The Florida airport was
extremely crowded and busy. I balanced my share of the heavy carry-on
luggage on my lap to prevent anyone from tripping over it. The back
of my legs hurt from the crazy dash across the terminal. I looked tiredly
at Mom, who as buried beneath a pile of jackets, clutching a bag of
genuine Florida oranges. She read my thoughts and said, "It'll
be good to get home." My sister yawned. "I just wish that we didn't have to go to school tomorrow." "Don't say that. Don't even think iti!", I said. School was a blasphemous word on our vacations. We became quiet again, each absorbed in our own thoughts. Even though I was upset about having to go to school again - I did want to go home. A terrible thing to want on any vacation. The thought made me even more miserable, as I lamented over our trip. I remembered how excited we had been, when Dad came home and surprised us with the plane tickets. We had not been to Florida in over eight years. And it was during winter recess, which astounded us even more, since he could never get off from work except in the summer. It was like a late Christmas present had appeared out of nowhere. There was no way of knowing the hideous surpises that waited for us under the wrapping. The first day was completely wasted at the rent-a-car place. We stood for three hours in the broiling hot sun, sweating underneath the heavy clothes which had protected us so well against the snow back home. But we bravely held our spirits high, as we concentrated on the days ahead which held so much promise. Thinking back on our excursions to Epcot and Walt Disney World, it almost seemed funny in a pathetic way. I looked at my sister, who was searching for something in the pile of suitcases and recalled her mad run for the bathroom during our first day at Epcot. The ladies' room emptied rather quickly as my poor sister hunched over a toilet bowl, signaling the beginning of the wretched stomach flu that would torment us for the rest of the vacation. I began to feel queasy when I thought about the clear plastic bags we had carried around the park, for emergencies. Probably not half as much as the people who had to watch our little spectacle. Finally I was able to push back these troubling memories out of my mind when Dad came back and hurried us toward the gate. Luckily, we hadn't missed the flight because it had been delayed. We scrambled into the plane and made our way to our seats in the next to last row. Everyone else was already seated and they looked up at us curiously. I blushed timidly as the flight attendants hastened us to our places. The captain came on the intercom and listed us as the next for departure. One by one we handed Dad our bags and he placed them in the overhead compartment. I looked anxiously around, wishing silently that he could hurry. My gaze fell on the people seated directly behind us and I was taken aback. The two men and one woman, dressed in business suits weren't just watching us - they were glaring at us. The woman whispered to the man next to her, I managed to make out "stupid" and "tourists." I looked away, embarassed. My Dad shut the compartment and we finally sat down. Then it happened. Something orange was dripping from above. I looked up and got a large drop in my eye. We all stood up again. Dad tried to open the hatch above but it was stuck. The dripping was increasing rapidly. "One of the bags is squashed in the grooves," he informed us. "The bag of oranges!" my mind cried. People were beginning to turn around to see what was happening. A flight attendant same over to help. I was standing in the aisle blocking her way. Embarassed, I moved hastily, only to collide with other attendants attempting to come to our rescue. "What the hell was in that bag?" my dad kept repeating, while struggling with the compartment. Mom, a bright red, muttered, "What do you think? A dead body?" Someone asked, "Is the air conditioning leaking?" This comment caused everyone who wasn't already looking to look. Slowly, Dad began to reveal the smashed oranges piece by piece. People were beginning to giggle. Despite our humilation, the four of us forced smiles. I turned to the ones behind us to see if they were laughing as well. They were not. Instead, they continued to glare. I glared back. I was embarassed but I was more offended by the condemning stare that I was receiving from that woman. Finally, I looked away, more hurt and tired than before. The plane was getting ready to take off now. Mom supplied tissues to mop up the seats and outside of the compartment. We sat down for a second time. I closed my eyes and tried to shut everything out. The music from my walkman began to sooth me as the plane sped down the runway. It rose swiftly into the air, freezing me to my seat. Suddenly, disturbed cries from the back seat caused me to open my eyes and turn around. The tilt of the plane had caused the left-over oranges juice to slide down the compartment and pour onto the heads of the people behind us. The nasty woman was holding the in-flight magazine over her head, scowling more deeply then ever. I looked at my Mom and Dad, who were staring straight ahead. I could tell from their suppressed smiles that they knew what had happened. I closed my eyes again and tried to contain the giggles that were mounting in me. The plane leveled off. The crushing weight of one unforgettable vacation finally lifted from my chest. |