This was exactly the scenario that people dread.

In fact, looking around at the individual faces on the flight crossing the western hemisphere I could see it; the kid of fifteen with the flat bill and his tablet he carries on his lap like a socialite with a poodle, or the sixty some grandpa with his sixty some wife who trade magazine articles as others would conversation. I can tell in the way people tilt their heads back or make fists on their laps or even, (as the brazen female sitting behind me exhibits), outright groan.

Average passengers are afraid not of terrorism or of crashing but the lines at security and being rerouted to another location, myself included. My five year old daughter sitting next to me pokes my arm like an elevator button, wondering why the scratchy voice is speaking though tissue paper when he mentions traveling to Armadillo and is that where Disneyland is. James turns his head around the seat in front of me where he is sitting with our two-year old son and raises his eyebrows at me. I mouth, “Texas? Really?” and he rolls his eyes in answer turning back around, humming the “halfway there” part of “Living On A Prayer” and making me smile. I’ve missed what the captain said about time and re-fueling, insolently thinking, I wouldn’t want to live a single hour in Texas!

The first delay was a moldy meal when we were all hungry, the denied landing was the expensive bill and people were now angry. Up until now, the flight over the silver thunder had turned soothing. Sure the starch smell of oxygen was still there but the florescent lights traded shifts with the shadowed corners creating a white aisle on the ceiling as if for an upside down bride. I knew Everett was already asleep on James’s lap so I stroke Avery’s yellow hair and drape my arm over her and try to explain what will happen next, learning only as I say it just what that will be. Avery wasn’t lulled in the slightest by the night flying; the dark flight was a calming bedtime story.

Ahead of me, amidst the Christian prayers and varied grumbling, I notice Flat Cap stroking his thumb over his tablet like a windshield wiper trying to swipe away this night. Grandpa has lowered his chin to his collar and I wonder if he’s just decided to take this as extra sleep time. Likewise, Grandma turns the page to a new article settling in, her fingers keeping track of each line she reads.

Avery said something I missed in her ‘you gotta hear this’ voice. “What was that, sweetie?”

“Just between us,” she asks me to promise so I lean closer. “We could pretend we’re on our way to Disneyland!”

I look over at Grandpa’s floating chin and Grandma’s intrigued fingertips. James reaches behind the seat for my hand. Outside, a red light winks at me from the wing.