Abort! ABORT!

After our plane had birthed the last of its Reno passengers into the darkness, our singing flight attendant (she'd pause for applause after every announcement) informed us that we had approximately 5 minutes to change seats before the plane began reboarding. I figured my mid-plane seat was still a pretty good one, and scooted toward the window so my row would seem more inviting. No awkward straddling required -- people would be lining up for the chance to sit with me!

But, as it turns out, there were only 3 new passengers on our flight and they all wanted to sit together near the back. Fine. But this meant the flight was only a quarter full, and that I was now completely alone. Behind me, in front of me, across the aisle - no one. Not a soul to lie to.

I was restless. I was bored. I had to move. But why did I have to move? And where did I have to move?

Fuck. The flight attendant was starting to sing Over the Rainbow again, replacing random words with "Southwest" and "seatbelt." FUCK. She was actually pretty good, but FUCK. I HAD TO MOVE. I HAD TO MOVE AND I HAD TO HAVE A REASON TO MOVE AND –

This is where I began to cry. Because crying people are allowed to do whatever they want. I grabbed my bag and started walking. One row, two rows, three rows, four -- and then there she was: Melissa, infant in arms. She was alone. I was alone. We were alone together, and suddenly I felt pregnant.

I stared at her from across the aisle and shook my head, not bothering to wipe the itchy tears from my face. "I'm sorry," I told her, "I know this is weird... Actually, this is really weird, but I just --" I buried my face in my hands and tried to collect myself. "I'm pregnant." Melissa looked confused, but nodded. She whispered a weak congratulations and I started laughing, repeating the phrase "I'm pregnant," over and over again as the tears poured forth from my face. "I'm sorry," I told her, soaking the sleeves of my sweatshirt. "I'm so sorry, but you're the first person I've told and it just, it sounds so -- " I broke down into sobs again. Where the fuck was I taking this? This wasn't funny. Not even to me.

To buy myself a little more time to think, I curled up into a seated fetal position and continued to cry hysterically. My tear ducts had just begun their surrender when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, expecting to see Melissa handing me her first-born, telling me softly to use this one as practice, but instead it was the blurry figure of a flight attendant. I wondered briefly if she was going to break out into song, but instead she bent down and asked if I was all right, and if she could get me anything. I shook my head no, lip trembling. "Water?" she asked. I hiccuped in response. "I'm sorry?" she asked, and I dropped my eyes to my feet. "Me too," I whispered.

After making me promise to let her know if I needed anything, the (maybe?) singing flight attendant disappeared back down the aisle. I looked over to Melissa again, whose expression was 9 parts exhaustion and 1 part sympathy... ish. Maybe 9 1/2 parts exhaustion? "Beautiful baby," I told her, squinting through swollen eyes at the pile of blankets in her lap. "How old?" She replied that he was nearly 6 months old. His name was some permutation of Kayden. This was his first plane ride. I smiled at him for a moment before turning away to hide what were now non-existent tears.

"How far along are you?" she asked. I turned back around to face her. "I don't know," I told her. "Maybe 6 weeks?" She nodded. "And you just found out?" I confirmed that I had. She looked down at Kayden, then back at me – "Do you have options?"

Do I have options? What? Was this a polite way to ask whether or not I was going to have an abortion? Is there a polite way to ask that? And more importantly, was there a polite way to respond? I shook my head and made a mental note to write Judith Martin when I got home.

Melissa sighed and stared at the ceiling. "Well, I'll tell you, it's not easy. Any of it." She told me how she and her husband hadn't planned for Kayden either. They'd only been married for a few months before she got pregnant, and neither of them felt like they were ready for a child, but knew they could make it work. Her husband's mom was helping them out financially, and even offered to babysit when Melissa went back to work, but she had recently decided to quit her job as a marketing consultant to "mother full time" instead. I smiled and told her that's exactly what I needed to hear, and that it must have been so nice to have a husband and mother-in-law to support her through everything.

She asked if the father was "still in the picture," and I gave her a long, blank stare. "The father?" I asked. "Of the baby," she clarified, but I was still lost. I cocked my head. "Your baby... The guy who... did this to you... is he around? Have you spoken to him about this?" I gave her another sideways glance and then smiled. "Oh, no no no... NOOOOO... I'm a virgin!"

I chuckled for awhile, waving my hands in front of me and assuring her over an over again that I was not a slut. In fact, I'd never even kissed a boy. I was saving all that until marriage, but now that I was pregnant, I felt like no one would want me. I knew this baby was a miracle, but it was still scary, and I felt like no one would believe me. "But you get it, right? You've been through this." I turned to her, to Kayden, and managed to coax the waterworks back on.

Melissa didn't answer. She scrunched her face and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. She looked really tired. "And you're sure you're pregnant?" she asked, a little annoyed now. "One hundred percent positive," I told her "I'm over two weeks late."

She wanted to know if I'd taken a pregnancy test, if I'd been to a doctor. I told her pregnancy tests were unreliable and that I was planning on seeing a doctor in Vegas, after I'd told my parents. She advised me to switch the order of those events and to "never trust my period." Fine, Melissa, but I'm inclined to trust a LACK of it. No period means you're either knocked up or post-menopausal, and I've yet to cry at a Kodak commercial, so by process of elimination...

I thought about quizzing her on her knowledge of reproductive health, but figured it would be best not to rub it in, and instead went straight back to freaking out. "Does it hurt? Did you do a natural birth? Did you see God?" It was then that Melissa gave me a look that made me want to drop the whole act and apologize. Too far, too far! Reverse, reverse! She flashed her eyes and her mouth tightened. "I'm sorry, I'm done with this conversation." I felt my stomach seize. I've never had problems with airsickness, but suddenly I found myself searching for something to vomit in. I sunk back into my seat and wanted to cry for real.

I stared quietly out the window for the remainder of the flight, thinking maybe this was cruel. Not just this lie, but all of them. I manipulate people for fun, and every once in awhile, they'll get genuinely upset. And when that happens, it makes me feel like shit. The absolute scum of the Earth.

Which is why it's so confusing that I'm already planning my next one.