#16 The Right Seat

I don't enjoy air travel. Especially long flights. I get these cramps in my legs and I just want to jump up and run around. It can become such a distraction that I can't think about anything else. It probably looks crazy to anyone watching me.
I once talked to a shrink about it. He thought I might be claustrophobic or agoraphobic or something but I don't have that same anxiety in any other tight spaces. And I'm not afraid to fly. I'm perfectly OK with it. It's the lack of freedom. Just knowing that we can't pull over so I can take a quick walk. And walking to the john and back to my seat doesn't qualify. I tried that but after five trips they think you're a terrorist no matter what you look like.
So I was in the middle of a long transatlantic flight home and I start to fidget. It got so bad, the woman across the aisle asked me if I needed help.
"No. I'm OK, really. I just get these leg cramps and, uh, I don't know." I winced in discomfort.
"I think it's probably more than that," she said. "I have the same problem, you know?"
She described how she felt on long flights. Even short ones. I forgot all about my problems while I intently listened to her.
"I have my medication right here with me. As you can see I'm as calm as a cucumber. I have plenty of these. Want a couple?"
She offered the bottle across the aisle. I accepted it and read the label carefully. I had never heard of the drug, but I didn't have any of the conditions that the warning label mentioned.
"Go ahead," she said, "I won't tell anybody."
"Oh, alright," I said, and popped a couple of the pills. I handed the bottle back to her.
When I next awoke, I found myself sitting on the dirt floor of a small building. Shackles connected my wrists and ankles to the walls. The anxiety returned and I felt the need to jump up and run.