19 A

The flight attendant at the gate looked at my face, looked at my ticket, looked back at my face and then down at my carry on bag, abruptly putting her arm, and as back up, a foot attached to a leg straight out in front of me, blocking my entry onto the jetwalk.

“Your carry on bag is oversized.” She said to me, with the deadpan look of a serial killer, quickly printing out an insta label for my bag to be checked and crudely taken away from me by a uniformed guy that magically appeared out of some cloud, slapping on the black printed label with swift demonic fingers, in my opinion exercising a complete disregard for humanity.

“What do you mean it’s oversized? I use this bag as a carry on all the time.” I retorted in a tone unbecoming of any proud mother’s daughter. I was tired, it was hot, the guy in front of me had either just cut one or he hadn’t showered, neither of which I cared to assume but I had no other option. The thought of spending even an extra minute at baggage claim after the flight felt like a death sentence. Yes. I was being dramatic but so was Miss Megalomania with the airplane silver pin, tight white tie and even tighter bun. My bag was not oversized.

A sweet young lady behind me with very white teeth that winked gave me a gentle tap on the shoulder and offered a considerate definitive warning. “Don’t mess with one of them or they will throw you off the flight.” She could tell I was in fighting mode by my tone and my snorting and if it wasn’t for her reminder, I don’t think I would have been able to comply by keeping quiet and moving forward in line with the other sheep.

When I got inside the cabin, Mr. Stinky Pants sat down in a single digit seat, and my seat, 19B was a comfortable distance away, so there was that, but then again I had not yet had the pleasure or so be it the displeasure of meeting my seatmate for the flight, 19A. Before I looked at his face, intentionally avoiding any eye contact, on auto pilot I reached for my invisible bag realizing; Damn it. My kindle was in there. So much for reading. I hope this guy doesn’t try to chat me up. His hands were securely on either side of his knees as if there was a valuable between them he was hoping to protect and he kept his eyes on his knuckles like they were his classroom pupils. It was then that I looked at his gray stubbled face. I sorta had to as I was climbing over his lap.

….Jeffrey Epstein? Seriously? Isn’t he currently under investigation for sex trafficking? My first impulse was to call security, but obviously, security already checked him in. I wondered if his carry on bag was overstuffed and I wondered if he would remember me from that party ten years ago. When he heard I was a psychic and clairvoyant, he had asked me to leave his home immediately using a lame excuse, politely but ever so swiftly avoiding any eye contact, offering me a limo driver and a gift card to a high end spa, leading me to the front door with a firm but gentle touch on my arm. The same scenario had happened to me before. I know the type. It’s always intentional and suspicious when a person refuses to be in my company to avoid one of my reads. What were you trying to hide from me that night Mr. Epstein, huh? Are you guilty of the charges against you? Now you’ve got nowhere to hide other than in the crapper so we’ve got the time. Two hours and forty six minutes to be precise. How bout a read?

For a second I thought he might be trying to read my thoughts, but that could have been just a pinch of leftover paranoia kicking in after my near miss with the check in attendant. 19A didn’t say hello and neither did I (friendly skies is a long forgotten slogan) and he seemed to have no clue he had met me before at one of his parties. Why would he remember me? I’m sure I was no more important to him than the determined fly singling out his right middle finger ignoring the other nine. Jeffrey kept bending his finger, lifting his middle knobby knuckle rhythmically, and each time he did the fly circled up towards his mouth. Continually taking control with a puckered lip exhale forcing out a puff, he emphasized the “p” which landed in my ear as annoyingly as the fly repeating his landing right back on that finger relentlessly, coming at him like Mohammad Ali, so many times I lost count. I’ve never gotten a read on a fly, but there is a first time for everything.

It was then that I decided to speak, not understanding why I even bothered. At this point we were already into the flight an hour. Perhaps it was because something unknown was blocking me from his thoughts, and I never back down from a challenge. Maybe it was the fly blocking me or some type of double teaming going on against me between the two of them….Could have been. Then again, maybe I was stuck in a delusion of persecution.

“Why don’t you just swat at it already.” I said to him in the same exact tone I used towards the flight attendant.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Our eyes locked. It was then that I connected with his memory. I saw it all. Everything. Flashing at me like a fast forwarded movie, including the sequel which was gonna happen when he got off the plane. For obvious reasons, when I have not been asked to read someone, I keep what I know close to the vest, between my lips alone, and well hidden behind my eyeballs, letting the vision of what I can’t unsee hang to cure like raw meat. Horrified, but unafraid knowing there was going to be a set of handcuffs slapped on him in the not too distant future, I said,

“Why don’t you let me take care of that for you.” And before he could protest, I swatted fast and I swatted hard, harder than Ali, and did not miss; I never do. Swatting. Another one of my unusual talents.

“Hey! Ouch! What do you think you are doing?”

“Just killing a pesky fly. Helping you out. You do know that fly was disgusting, he was dirty and he deserved to die, right?”

He turned his head away from me but not before he flicked the dead fly off his middle finger. A drop of red pigment from its seeing eyes was left behind. And as we sat the rest of the flight in silence, I was not worried. I knew his fate and as it turns out so did that fly.