Sky's The Limit

"We're traveling with zip-ties from now on," my love whispered to me. I nodded agreement to him.

Let's back up a few hours. We travel a lot; I mean A LOT. Constantly in the air it seems, and we have never had an 'incident' on our plane. I'm trained in martial arts and my significant other is former military and used to play football. You get the idea: he is large and always in charge (except when I am, LOL). As for me; well, I am no one to be messed with, not easily intimidated and seem to scare people more than he does. Must be his charming smile.

I tended to look serious most of the time which might be why people were more nervous around me. Annoyance comes quickly to me and anyone can read my thoughts just by looking at me. My face frequently got me in trouble, although usually people were reading me angry when I was simply concentrating.

Vince and I are government contractors. Can't tell you anything else other than we get sent to non-glamorous places for difficult quick in-and-out jobs. We fly commercial; he knows some of the air marshals, and when he spots one on the plane, they do a nod of the head in hello and nothing further.

We always select aisle seats, across from each other, no matter how long the flight is. I have thoroughly considered window seats, especially for the ease of sleeping, using my coat rolled for a pillow. However, there are problems with window seats: 1) it's colder; 2) window seats make it harder to get up and stretch or use the restroom; 3) it takes EVEN longer to disembark; 4) and if someone large is next to you, it can be suffocating.

We now always select aisle seats to avoid those issues, but most importantly, we could kick ass if some crazed traveler went bezerk.

Which is what I will recount to you now.

***

Fifteen is our lucky number so we try to get seats in row fifteen. No air marshalls were on this flight, and we did get our lucky row, speaking to each other across the aisle. This cross-country flight was on a well-known airline, from Boston to San Francisco. The plane was a Boeing 737-900 and had one restroom in first-class and three at the tail end of the plane.

After the first round of drinks and snacks were served, people began milling around and queueing up for the restroom. Cheryl, blonde, slim, and about five feet seven wore a flight crew skirt that hugged her hips so tightly it wrinkled across her stomach and the pockets flared out. Hair combs held her blonde hair back in a twist, bangs brushing her brows. Extra lush, long false eyelashes with exquisite shadow and liner gave her a Lady Gaga look. I couldn't help but stare at her as she moved around the first-class cabin.

A gentleman in the main cabin had friends up in first class, so he figured he would stand next to their seats in the aisle and carry on a conversation for forty minutes. Cheryl had forcefully announced numerous times that no line could form for the forward bathroom and everyone must use the one in their section. Why couldn't he just follow instructions? I sighed loudly and pushed my horn-rimmed progressive eyeglasses up on my nose, and woke up my Kindle.

Tamron, a gorgeous flight attendant wearing the pants version of the flight uniform guarded the cockpit door as the pilot used the restroom. I watched her observe the blabbermouth standing in the aisle. Her crisp white shirt was buttoned down the front, but her breasts were fighting with the stretchy fabric of the shirt trying to pop out and flash everyone. I was utterly fascinated watching the two female flight attendants in action; glancing at my partner, I saw that his eyes were glued to Tamron's bosom.

"Jesus, Vince, you are salivating. What the hell is wrong with you?" I gave him my sternest look and he honestly appeared to be embarrassed that I caught him. My long-time love, we had met at Fort Belvoir, Virginia; he looked a bit like a young Pierce Brosnan, had dark hazel eyes, and kept his blue-black hair tied back in a low ponytail. I loved his sense of humor; he was a great cook and still could run a mile in under five minutes.

Tamron motioned to the marathon conversationalist and yelled out for him to go back to the main cabin, but he continued talking as if he didn't hear her. The pilot exited the toilet and returned to the cockpit and it was no clear Mr. Gabbypants was in for it. Tamron whispered to Cheryl, who peered down the aisle and said loud enough for me to hear, "I'll tell him." She was in his face immediately. "Sir, you cannot stand in the aisle in this cabin. Go back to the main cabin and be seated, now! We will have no one standing in the first class aisle." There was no smile or sugarcoating - she arched her eyebrows, reaching over him to grab the mesh curtain. As she pulled the curtain over the aisle, her other hand was on his shoulder propelling him toward his seat.

I nudged Vince. "Mr. Gabbypants finally sat down. Geesh, why can't people cooperate and follow the rules?" I said it in a hushed tone so only he could hear me. He shrugged; he didn't care as long as it didn't directly impact him. I giggled as the woman behind Vince gave me a thumbs-up. She gets it!

I walked to the back of the plane to use the restroom and had to wait for two other people. Once finished, I washed my hands thoroughly and dabbed some water on my cheeks and neck to moisturize my skin. A line had formed at the back restrooms and to return to my seat, I had to wiggle my way through people in the narrow aisle without running into some random guy's crotch or have a busty woman's sweaty breasts swiping me. Ewww, flying!

***

Vince was snoozing, and just to pay him back for his drooling over Tamron, I pushed his shoulder to say 'hi, I'm back' and woke him up. He groggily eyed me and then smiled. He loves me, yes he does, even when I'm grumpy. As I hooked my seatbelt, I heard a loud commotion behind me, so lowered my head and peered back down the aisle.

Instantly, I unhooked my belt, yelled to Vince, and elbowed him, then leaped to my feet. A tall muscle-bound man was charging up the aisle and was now at row 22 when a red-headed soccer player (he had his jersey on) confronted the man for jostling him in his aisle seat. I noted that the troublemaker had weird bright lime-green eyes, tattoos on his knuckles, and dirty-blond hair tied back with a white silk scarf patterned with cobras. He shouted an obscenity I hadn't heard in years, at which point the redhead pulled the cobra scarf off of him. Red Head was the same height as Lime Green, his jaw square like Clutch Cargo (Google it, Folks) with massive hands he used to grab Red Head by the shoulders.

Vince arose as the two began to shadow box in the aisle. Cheryl was now on the overhead yelling out for them to stop and go back to their seats. "You must sit down and buckle your seat belts. Do not get up for the duration of the flight! You MUST follow all flight crew directions and orders. If you do not, the captain will call ahead and when we land, you will be detained and arrested."

Red Head was winning the tussle match and leaning Lime Green down over the back of the row. Suddenly Lime jerked his head back into Red's nose which broke and sprayed blood everywhere. I heard Vince grumble, "Shit, now I gotta go in, dammit!" He took two steps toward Lime but stopped with his hands up, saying "Whoa, buddy, whoa. Calm down." Lime had his arm around Red's neck with a hunting knife to Red's neck.

"I will slit his throat. Divert the plane to Denver," he yelled to Cheryl.

"Sir, we are passed the halfway mark, we can't change flight paths."

"Bullshit! Do it, do it now!"

"I will talk to the captain, sir. What is your name, please?"

He just looked at her with murder in his eyes. Red already had a deep scarlet trickle marking his neck. I knew she could call the captain from her phone but she made like she was going into the cockpit, and then she did. I heard the door lock while I stared at Lime and the knife to Red's throat. So much for TSA security! How did that knife get through security and on this plane? While a corner of my mind analyzed that, I inched my way closer to back up Vince. I calmly stood there.

"Look, they won't divert the plane. Just let him go and let's talk." Vince was using his low hypnotic tone. His MS in Forensic Psychology and training in hostage negotiation were in full gear, so I didn't say a word.

"Tell them to redirect this plane to Denver!"

"Why do you need to go to Denver, Sir? Can we talk? My name is Vince, what's yours?" The guy just stared at him, pushing the knife into Red's throat. I noticed Red's neck veins were not bulging, which meant he was calm. I focused on him, making eye contact. Sneakily I raised my hand to signal that we would work together. I took a deep breath, let out a low whistle to alert Vince and then pitched my voice high and let out an ear-splitting martial arts kiai! Red elbowed Lime hard and sidestepped as Vince moved in and disarmed him, then dropped him in a Spock-like move. (Please keep up, Readers! Star Trek - you know, Vulcan Spock.)

I whipped around as a command of SIT DOWN was shouted up in the first class cabin. Oh, c'mon, what now? A looney tune from row four in first class was now standing in the aisle, facing the cockpit. Clearly, Tamron intended to block his path, her tiny-but-mighty stance on guard at the first class galley. He was twice her size and outweighed her by probably one hundred twenty pounds. I judged him to be about two hundred thirty pounds of muscle and wasn't even sure if I could take him all by myself.

As he headed toward her, she lowered her head and untied her hair which fell in sleek shiny waves below her shoulders. Her eyes narrowed to slits and I watched as her right hand closed into a fist, the left becoming a claw. Oh shit, she is about to do some serious kung fu or something on this guy... the signal of letting down her hair, like Billy Jack removing his boots, telegraphed her readiness. I was mesmerized.

***

He was in front of her with one stride but she had sidestepped him and was standing on the seat in row one. She drove her elbow sharply and vertically onto his cervical spine and her legs encircled his waist. The sharp elbow blow barely registered with him but I knew it would pain him slowly, it just took a minute. He swung as if to shake her off but she had her fingers in his ears and was throwing her weight into the movement. She released one ear and then pushed her thumb into his carotid, pressing, pressing. He howled, reaching behind him and grabbing her hair. She clicked an overhead open and felt inside for anything to hit him with.

Approximately forty-five seconds had passed and now I stepped into the fray, kicking the back of his knees to try and drop him. He stumbled and spun back so now Tamron had her back to the cockpit. She let go and landed on the floor while his attention was on me. Vince shouted to distract him but he turned back toward the cockpit door. Tamron leaped to the seat and reached into the overhead, gripping it like a jungle gym, kicking out at his face with both legs. He grabbed her shirt just as I kicked him again, following it with a strike to his temple using a hard carry-on bag. He began to fall slowly, like a giant tree. His hand was grasping Tamron's tight white blouse and when he fell, the buttons popped off the shirt.

Oops! Tamron's pale pink Victoria's Secret Bombshell bra was doing its best to hold in her 36DDs that had just been released from one clothing layer. I snapped my fingers loudly to get all the first-class passengers' attention. "Okay, folks, we need the big strapping guys in first-class to spread eagle this giant in the aisle. Secure him to the seat legs with belts, luggage straps, duct tape, or anything that will secure him tightly. Do a good job now, we can't have him getting loose." I snapped my fingers at a well-muscled businessman who couldn't take his eyes off Tamron's gorgeous bustline. "You! Get to work and stop staring. We don't need gawkers, we need muscle and action!" I gave him a shove.

Vince and Red dragged Lime to a back restroom and locked him in, then Vince and I walked the aisle, inspecting each passenger and seat for any further danger. When we deemed it safe, we had Tamron call Cheryl to tell her the coast was clear.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we came through a very dangerous situation. We are diverted to Boeing Field near Seattle. The FBI will meet us and take the attackers off the plane. I will let you know when we land what the next step will be, but we promise to get you to your destination in San Francisco safely."

Vince whispered to me, "We're traveling with zip-ties from now on." He brushed his lips against my cheek. "Good work. You can back me up anytime." He winked at me and I laughed.

Our home base wasn't far from Boeing Field so Vince used the plane phone to call our bosses. After he gave them the full run-down and assured them our assignment had been successful, he turned to me.

"Hey Babe, we will have twenty-four hours to rest and then we are on our way to Lagos."

***

Nigeria? I was not looking forward to a seventeen-hour flight (not including layovers), or such a densely crowded city. Such is the life of certain government contractors. He could fill me in on our assignment later. My mind was focused on a smooth pinot noir and a soak in the hot tub surrounded by greenery and flowers while listening to songbirds.

Zooming home with Vince in his Aston Martin, I logged in to my bank account to make sure my direct deposit paycheck had been transmitted timely.