By Mohammed Shamma

(Instant Transit - Part 1)

It was 8:32 A.M. when Florence stepped off the bus and made her way across the street, through the luggage carts and travelers to the entrance of the airport.  She had no real reason for being there.  She didn’t have an airline ticket and she didn’t have anyone to greet at the arrivals hall. 

Approximately 51 minutes earlier she was standing over her toaster when the urge to leave just popped into her head.  Perhaps it was her toaster that popped and jolted something inside her.  Whatever it was, it scared and exhilarated her simultaneously. 

Her heart began to beat loudly within her chest.  Her neck stiffened and her arms grew hot as a flight mode was taking off inside her.  She abandoned her bread in the toaster and ran to her bedroom closet to get her butterscotch yellow overnight case.  She packed a few undergarments, hairbrush, toothbrush and toothpaste and headed towards the door.

Her hand was on the front door handle when she stopped.

“I’ll need something to read,” she said to herself.

She ran towards a stack of books on a card table in her kitchen. 

"Not due yet.  Not interested.  Not due yet.  Ah ha!" 

She grabbed the fourth book in the stack and headed back to the front door with a library copy of Jonathan Livingston Seagull under her arm. 

(Instant Transit - Part 2)

Florence stood motionless in front of the  revolving doors at Terminal 1, waiting for her next move like a board game piece.  She recalled the lazy Sunday afternoons playing with her younger brother Felix.

“Where’s the shoe?” asked Felix.

“What?” asked Florence.  “Don’t be silly.  That’s Monopoly.  This is ‘The Game of Life.’ You get your very own car,” said Florence as she handed him the purple plastic game piece.  “Don’t put it in your mouth.”

THE WHITE ZONE IS FOR LOADING AND UNLOADING ONLY. 

The loudspeakers blared through her ears and blasted her back to the present.

“Well you’re certainly not playing ‘Life’ because you just got off the bus,” she shrugged off the childhood memory and took a step towards the door when she heard a man’s voice. 

“What’s your next move?”

She turned around and saw a skycap approaching her. 

"Where are you headed today ma'am?" he asked.

"Headed?  Oh!"  She didn’t expected this.  "I'm uh, hmm?" she felt the sweat drip down the back of her neck as she struggled to find her words.

"I can check your bag if you tell me your destination."  The skycap pointed to her butterscotch yellow overnight case.

"About that.  Yeah. I don't really have a ticket," she confessed.

"Okay, just head over to the ticket counter and they'll take care of you."  He pointed to the airline ticket counter just inside the revolving glass doors to Terminal 1.

(Instant Transit - Part 3)

Florence stood in front of revolving doors and watched as travelers entered and exited from the other side. “Time to spin the wheel,” she said to herself.  Then, with a deep breath and one final sweep of the door she entered its airlock.

Once inside, she hesitated and slowed her steps down to a crawl until time itself could no longer move. The door paused and a calm silence engulfed the passageway.  Time stood still inside and her heart waited for the signal to beat. 

In the midst of the quietude, her thoughts began to race.  What would happen if I stopped?  Just stopped? Now.  Would everyone return to work on Monday?  Would they notice that their morning coffee was missing?  Would they prepare the meeting minutes themselves?  If I refused to play this board game of Life, would I ever have to sit on another suffocating city bus?  Or better yet, I’d never have to eat another dime store deviled ham sandwich again.  I’ll never take another cold shower again.

She rested her head against the curved glass wall of the airlock and clutched her butterscotch yellow overnight case.  It served as her personal keepsake box and talisman.  She found it abandoned in the alley behind the movie theater where she worked.  In it she kept her earrings, a Timex wristwatch, a copy of her high school valedictorian speech, several postcards left behind in library books, and an unpaid college tuition bill. 

The timelessness she relied upon inside the airlock could no longer wait.  A wave of air spilled into it and the door swept her out into the main hall of Terminal 1.  The wheel had spun.  She must continue on.

(Instant Transit - Part 4)

Florence gazed out at the Sea of people pouring into the main hall of Terminal 1.  A cross current of arrivals from the West Gate converged with the tide departing for the East.  She spotted the ticket counter across main hall, a remote island singing out for someone to stand on its shores.

“I guess I’ll need a boat for this part of the game,” she said to herself.

So with plenty of wind in her sails and her butterscotch yellow overnight case in hand, Florence set off across the crowded waters of Terminal 1.  She tacked back and forth attempting to dodge the oncoming people.  As they passed her, Florence felt a sparkling of stardust in their wake.  She stopped and watched the dust surround her.  It glittered in the morning sunshine and glistened as each particle landed on her skin.  She connected with the travelers in their dust.  She could read its bioluminescent stories and hear its celestial sounds. 

The power of the dust was apparent when Florence noticed a tall brunette who walked to the beat of midnight suede.  Her knee high boots that no other could wear told the tale of hyacinth and vanilla, of being lost in the backstreets of Montmatre, a secret love story that one must only experience to fully understand.

Then there was the sheep-haired boy that nearly tripped Florence when he ran back to pick up his fallen toy, a hand woven leather camel with soft wide inviting eyes, the toy that mommy and daddy bought in that fly laden market in Fez to keep him occupied while on a seven-day desert safari. 

Florence was about to look up when she noticed the flowing habits of the Sisters of Charity.  They passed before her with firm silent grace cradling multicolored retablos adorned with Andean scenes of harvest, feasting and adoration.  Florence had a vision that transcended the altar, that transported her to a Quechua village beyond the Sacred Valley.  She looked on as the elders gave thanks and presented the retablos to the Sisters as a token of gratitude for their service.

The crowd eventually dispersed and the dust began to settle as she made her last few steps to the ticket counter.  She had no sooner put down her butterscotch yellow overnight case, when she noticed a young agent smiling at her.

"Good morning.  How can I help you today?"

Florence looked stunned.  All the game play, daydreams and imagination hadn't prepared her for this.  Is this where I choose, thought Florence.  I'm not ready for this.  I have no idea where I want to go. 

The agent gave her a concerned look.  "Is everything alright Miss?  May I see your ticket?"

"I don't have a ticket" said Florence.

"Oh. Well there's no need to worry.  You can purchase tickets right here.  Where would you like to go?"

“Is anywhere a destination?” asked Florence.

The agent laughed.  "That's a good one.  I've never heard that one before.  Unfortunately, I can only key in actual city names into the terminal."

Florence laughed.  "Of course I know that.  I was just testing you."  She paused for a brief moment and then decided to go for broke.  "Very well then.  Let's start with London to Paris, Paris to Rome and then."  Florence paused again as if she were lost in thought.  Then she turned her head to the split-flap display spinning and updating the arrivals and departure times.

The agent’s eyes followed Florence, but she couldn't read her.  Her courteous smile disappeared.  She checked if her colleagues were in earshot of their conversation and then looked back at Florence.  Her eyes widened and her smile slowly returned.  “Are you planning a trip around the world?”

Florence spoke with confidence now, "Why of course.  I'm just visiting some friends and family.  They're spread out all over the world and I thought to myself.  Why not!  Make a game out of it."

"Oh boy this is going to be so fun.  I'm still in training so I'll need to get my boss.  There are some codes in the terminal that he hasn't taught me yet.  Just wait here one second and I shall return." 

The agent ducked into a door in the wall behind the ticketing desk.  Florence didn't wait for her to return.  This was enough for now thought Florence.  She picked up her butterscotch yellow overnight case and headed toward the gates of Terminal 1.

(Instant Transit - Part 5)

When Florence dove back into the choppy sea of travelers, her head bobbed up and down like a curious seal exploring a new marina.

"THIS IS THE FINAL CALL FOR PASSENGERS FLYING ON EASTERN AIRLINES FLIGHT 510 TO NEW YORK DEPARTING AT 9:30"

The bobbing stopped.  The message on the PA reminded Florence of a ritual she performed every Sunday morning like clockwork.  She had to get to a quiet place.  She cautiously dodged the crosscurrent of people and waded over to a wall at the back of Terminal 1.  She followed the wall until she came upon a stall with wooden folding doors, a tiny curved bench and a telephone attached to the wall.  She stepped inside and closed the door.  Her butterscotch yellow overnight case made a loud thump as she placed it on the bench.  Then she made a click click with the latches and a snap snap of her coin purse. 

She spun around, took the receiver from the telephone hook, put one dime in the ten cent slot and one nickel in the five cent slot.  Then she placed her finger on a chrome dial with ten holes and rotated the dial seven times.  She put the phone to her ear and waited.

"Hi Faye it's me.... How's everything?  Are you feeling ok?... What did Dr. Redmond say?... Thalidomide?... And how's old whats-his-face? Is he back at work?... He's not?... What?... The Navy!... But, didn't you tell him?... Oh, honey you're going on 10 weeks now!... What?... You don't want to worry him?... You know what.  I'm sorry.  You know.  That man....He doesn't deserve you.... What?... Well... I just think... You... Faye Dorothy Adkins, as my best friend, you deserve better.  You're too good to him and he.... Well.... He just takes you for granted.... Alright.  I'm sorry.  Alright.  I won't start up again.... Fine.... Fine!... I SAID fine Faye!"

Tap. Tap. Tap.  Florence turned around and saw the face of a man in a business suit staring through the folding doors at her.

"Excuse me miss.  The other phones are out of order.  Would you mind?  I've got a flight to catch."

Florence tried to cover the receiver but it was too late.

"What was what?"  Florence turned her head away from the man.  "Where am I?...  The airport?...  What on earth do you mean?... Of course I'm not at the airport.... It's just that creepy guy from down the hall.  I think he's been drinking again.... I called the police.... No of course not.... They never came....  I'm pretty sure he pals around with them in the evenings."

"THIS IS THE SECOND FINAL CALL FOR PASSENGERS FLYING ON EASTERN AIRLINES FLIGHT 510 TO NEW YORK DEPARTING AT 9:30"

"What?...  Ok fine!  You got me Faye.... I'm at the airport.  So what?"  Florence anxiously looked at the man waiting outside the phone booth. 

"Please miss.  I need to make a call."

Florence continued to ignored him. 

"My father called?... When?... Last night?... Yes but why?... Mother made him do it didn't she.... She must've learned that I'm not attending service.... Oh Faye!... You know I can't live there anymore.... Oh don't you worry.  I can manage.  I'll figure it out....  It's only for a semester until... Oh I'll pay for school without their help.... No.  I won't.  I won't do it."

"THIS IS THE THIRD AND FINAL CALL FOR PASSENGERS FLYING ON EASTERN AIRLINES FLIGHT 510 TO NEW YORK DEPARTING AT 9:30"

"Faye?... Can you hear me Faye?... Remember that day high school, in Home Ec class?....  When I botched that Lane cake that evil Mrs. Crosset made me, AND ONLY ME, prepare.... That put me down a letter grade and her son."  Florence bit her lip as it started to quiver.  She tried to hold back her tears as she stared at the man outside the phone booth. 

"He was ranked below me!... And I lost the valedictorian spot.... AND the scholarship...."  Florence turned around and hid her face as she wept uncontrollably.  The man outside walked away. 

"And you helped me.... I should've listened to you that night when we practiced the recipe.  I was arrogant and angry.... You held me while I cried.... Oh Faye.  I feel so hopeless and fragile right now." 

Florence fumbled around in her butterscotch yellow overnight case for a handkerchief.  She knelt down and stared at herself in the bag's built-in mirror.

"Oh dear Faye.  I've ruined my face....What?... Yes of course I'm coming home.... What?... Listen Faye.  Some folks take walks in the park.  I'm not like them.  I just need a little more that's all.... Don't worry about me Faye.... I'll probably head over to the library later.  I hear they have several copies of that new Agatha Christie novel.  You know.  'A Passage to Frankfurt'.

(Instant Transit - Part 6)

But Florence was not ok.  The phone call was a jolt to her soul.  She sank to her knees inside that phone booth.  She had just confessed away the last bits of her pride and dignity.  The momentary hope that this blind conversation would save her soul and clear her heart was all but a fallacy.  And so with her last shred of faith, she gripped, no, she clung on to that phone cord and recounted her own prayer.

"I will not quit.  I will not quit.  I will not quit."

Faye's voice faintly called out to her best friend from the receiver, "Florence?  Oh sweetie what are you doing?"  Florence gave no response.

"I will not quit. I will not quit.  I will not quit."  Florence continued.

"Why are you repeating yourself?" Faye raised her voice, but Florence didn't respond.

"I will not quit.  I will not quit.  I will not quit."

"Florence?  You're scaring me....Florence!"  Faye's voice screamed though the handset.

"I will not quit!"

BANG!

The phone booth door swung open.  The man in the business suit had returned.

"For the last time, would you please get out of this phone booth so I can make a call."

Florence scrambled to her feet, slammed the lid on her butterscotch yellow overnight case, shoved the man out of the way and stormed off down the path of the curved wall.

Then she picked up the pace.  "Oh look what you've done Florence!" she said angrily to herself.  "Now you've caused a scene."  She was moving faster now.  She was almost at a running pace when she turned her head around to see if anyone was staring at her.

"Hold on there," came a gruff voice.  Florence felt a hand grab her by the shoulder.  She turned around.  An officer was looking at her with an uninterested but curious expression.  "I can't let you pass."  He pointed to a sign that read "ALL PASSENGERS MUST WILL BE SCREENED BEFORE BOARDING THE AIRCRAFT.  AIRCRAFT HIJACKING IS A FEDERAL CRIME PUNISHABLE BY DEATH.  CARRYING CONCEALED WEAPONS ABOARD AIRCRAFT IS PUNISHABLE BY PRISON SENTENCES & FINES."

Florence stepped back from the officer, paused, and looked back at the phone booth and then at the ticketing desk.  Perhaps now was the time to tell the truth.  "But I'm not a passenger you see I'm…"

The officer didn't let her finish.  "Doesn't matter Miss. Everyone who wants to go THAT way." His meaty hand pointed down the hallway leading to the gates. "That means all friends and family of passengers.  Everyone must be screened.  Say your goodbyes now or get in line."  His meaty hand moved from her shoulder and pointed towards the crowd lining up at the noisy metal detectors. 

Florence soberly walked passed a group of travelers queueing up behind a red velvet rope.  Her eyes caught the rope and she was instantly taken back to the night before.  It was he opening night of 'Last Tango in Paris," the night she had to fill in for Doris at the movie theater because she left early with the manager, the night she had to clean auditoriums 1 and 2 while the creepy assistant manager, Lizard-faced Leon watched her like a Hollywood stalker. 

Later that evening, Leon would insist on walking her home. 

Later that evening, Florence would order Leon to leave. 

Later that evening, Florence showed Leon her mother's gun.

"Miss?" a hand touched her arm.

Florence jumped in surprise.  She was holding up the line.

"You can put your bag on the belt now."  A female security agent stood in front of her.  She motioned to the X-ray machine.

Florence felt her heart trying to escape out of her chest.

"Don't worry dear, your bag will be waiting for you on the other side."

Florence clumsily placed her butterscotch yellow overnight case on the conveyer belt's edge and it fell to the floor.  The lid flew open upon impact.  Florence's personal effects went sliding across the white limestone floor.

"Oh dear.  Let me help you with that," said the agent. 

Florence silently watched as the agent picked up her postcards, Timex watch and valedictorian speech off the floor."

"First time flying?" asked the agent as she packed the butterscotch yellow overnight case, closed the lid and placed it on the X-Ray scanner's conveyor belt.

"I...uh.  I... I've never flown before." Florence smiled nervously.

The agent put her hand on Florence's shoulder.  "Don't worry Dear.  Just follow me." 

The agent walked Florence to the metal detector and stopped the line. 

"Here you go dear.  Just walk through here and collect your bag right over there." 

Florence passed silently through the rectangular gate.  The agent waved and smiled and moved on to assist other travelers. 

(Instant Transit - Part 7)

Florence collected her butterscotch yellow overnight case and began walking away from the security line.  She heard the voice of the man in the business suit behind her.  She slowed her pace but didn't turn around.   

"I don't know where it came from officer. You have to believe me.  It's not my gun!  I've never seen it in my life!" 

Then she heard another voice.  It was the police officer. 

A slight smile grew Florence’s face as she followed the other travelers.  For a split second, a minuscule moment, she felt just like the ones who get to leave this place.  She, who was trapped by the circumstances of her life, held prisoner in that tiny apartment and meaningless job, got a free pass.  She got to walk away from a federal crime. 

She wasn’t too worried about that man in the business suit.  He probably had a good lawyer, she thought to herself.  in fact, his lawyer will make the police look like fools once they realize his fingerprints weren’t even on the gun.  He’ll probably work out some deal and get a police escort back to the airport the next day.

“Just enjoy yourself Florence,” she said under her breath.  “How often do you get to walk down such a grand and beautiful pearlescent hallway.”   Florence took in the majesty of the moment.  She felt like a queen with each soft step of her ballet flats.  And she held her gaze all the way down the hallway.  She could feel people smiling as she passed them.  I wonder if this is what Heaven is like, Florence thought to herself. 

(Instant Transit - Part 8)

Florence was exhausted and running on autopilot at this point.  She sat down in the first empty seat she could find at the gate.  She let out a sigh of relief.

Suddenly a little boy walked up to the seat next to her and opened a leather shoulder bag placed in the seat beside her.  Florence hadn't noticed it earlier.  His eyes widened and a big grin came over his face as he pulled out a camera.  Yes it was just like the one in the television commercial with Laurence Olivier. 

Suddenly, a woman came from out of nowhere, ran up to the boy and took the camera away from him.  “Now Dennis what did I tell you about touching other people’s things!” Her face grew red as she looked up at Florence.  “I’m so sorry.  He doesn’t usually act like this.”  She held out the camera and waited for Florence to take it.

"Oh it's not mine.  I just sat down."

“Take my picture! Take my picture. Take my picture.” Dennis chanted the words while clapping his hands and jumping up and down.

Florence saw that the woman was struggling with her son.  "I can put it back in the bag for you."

“Thank you dear," said the mother as she handed the camera to Florence.  She scowled at her son, pulled him by the arm and walked off.

Florence put the camera back in the bag and sat back down in her seat.  She wanted to relax and enjoy the moment a little more.  Inside her butterscotch yellow overnight case was just the thing she needed, a Hershey's chocolate bar and a library copy of Jonathan Livingston Seagull.  She took small bites from the chocolate bar as she read about Jonathan and his extraordinary life as a seagull.  She especially loved the part about his Breakthrough and how it changed his life forever.  Maybe one day I'll have my own Breakthrough, she thought to herself.

[Two hours later]

Florence slowly awoke to a low mechanical whirring sound coming from the bag.  In her semi-lucid state she thought the bag would start shaking or moving off the chair.  Wait a minute.  What are you doing?  Her thought brought the days events back to her.  She checked her watch. 

"Oh heavens!  I've been sleeping here for two hours!"

No one said anything.  The airport did not care if she was asleep or awake. 

She threw away her Hershey's wrapper and put the book back in her butterscotch yellow overnight case.  Just as she was about to leave, another sound came from the bag.  It sounded like retractable blinds closing very fast.  Why hasn't anyone come for this bag, she thought.

She took a peek inside.  The camera was in there, and a photograph was hanging from it's mouth.  Florence looked at it and was shocked by what she saw.