Prose                                       
Bob's Big Adventure

  Bob grabbed his small carry-on and walked down the chute onto the plane. As always, he got a vague feeling that it must be like traveling through an umbilical cord into a huge, snub-nosed, winged baby. He knew it was a strange thought, but he couldn’t help but feel it anyway. That’s just the kind of stuff he thought about.

  Walking through the seal onto the aircraft, Bob clutched his bag a little bit tighter. There wasn’t much in there: just his tickets, some gum, and sleeping pills to “entertain” him during the flight. In fact, Bob probably should have just carried the items in his pockets; the bag looked almost like a purse. This was Bob’s way, though, and no one questioned it.

  Since Bob was a small, weak, harmless, fifty-five year old man, it was surprising how intimidating he was. He had a way of looking at strangers that just convinced them he was saying “Back off! I do NOT want to talk to YOU!” even though he never opened his mouth. So no one even tried to talk to him anymore, not even the little old ladies who would talk to anyone for eight hours about their wedding and grandchildren, not even the little kids who would ask anyone unanswerable questions like “What keeps the wings on?” and “Why don’t we just ride BIRDS?” followed by an endless string of “Why’s”. No one talked to Bob and that’s how he wanted it. People were not Bob’s favorite thing. In fact, they were one of his least favorite things.

  When Bob was little, the children at school always made fun of him. He tried to be friendly for a long time, but things just didn’t work out. The kids said he looked like a rat, which he kind of did because of his long nose and his diminutive stature. Unable to think of a cleverer nickname, they took to calling him “Bob the Rat.” It was simple, yet effective. Kids can be so cruel. In this way, Bob made himself more and more distant from people. And thus, he became the bitter little rodent of a man described so far. People made him grumpy and his grumpiness made people stay away even more. It was quite a vicious cycle.

  Intelligence was one of Bob’s better traits, though, and it had made him a fortune in the stock market. Stock brokers were a waste of money to Bob; he did everything on his own. It paid off quite well. He made himself wealthy enough to retire at the age of forty-four. Since no one would marry him, he obviously had no children, and he didn’t like new things, Bob’s money was even more plentiful. Long ago he had decided that he should do something enjoyable with his money, though, so he began taking his elderly parents on vacations. After awhile, they both passed on, but Bob still enjoyed taking the trips. On this particular day, he was on his way from Atlanta to Zurich. He had been in Zurich once before but hadn’t gotten a chance to spend much time there.

  The flight from Atlanta to Zurich takes about ten hours and Bob’s plan was to sleep the whole way with the help of his sleeping pills. He was a restless sleeper and without the pills he would have frightful nightmares. With the pills, he slept like a baby. With their help, he wouldn’t move a muscle until the plane arrived in Zurich.