127 - glass
arold raised his arm and pressed the flight attendant button situated above his head. A quaint little ding ran through the cabin, and he quickly returned his hand to the armrest it had formerly been gripping. The armrest was still warm and slightly moist.
The flight attendant took an eternity to make his way to seat 32F, or at least it seemed so to Harold. The plane wasn't even full, the seat next to Harold was in fact empty, as many of the other seats on the flight were. The flight attendant had no excuse for taking so long, Harold thought, though he still felt relieved when the man showed up, leaned in and flicked the little call button back to the off position.
"Can I help you, sir?" the attendant asked, slightly unsettled by Harold's appearance.
"Absolutely. I was just wondering if there was any update on when we would be clearing this patch of turbulence?" Harold asked.
The flight attendant looked around, surveying the situation first with just his eyes, but then by moving his entire head from side to side. He was trying to make sure that he was on the same plane as his passenger.
Finally, he simply asked, "Pardon me sir, but, turbulence? What turbulence?"
Now Harold had his turn to be confused. "I mean all this!" He motioned his hands around the cabin, before quickly returning them to their death grip on the armrests. "You know, the violent shaking and trembling we're experiencing? This random movement? Unexpectedly feeling like we're falling out of the sky or about to tumble apart?"
"Is this some kind of joke?" the flight attendant asked, with an annoyed expression on his face. "You know, it is a federal crime to waste a flight attendant's time."
"A joke? I'm feeling like I'm about to meet my maker and you accuse me of making a joke? I wish!" Harold scoffed.
"Listen, sir, there's no turbulence to speak of at the moment. Take a look around!" the flight attendant said, while motioning around the cabin.
Harold tried to follow the flight attendant's hands with his eyes, but as soon as he started to do so, his brain felt like it was swimming. "Ugh, all this turbulence is making me dizzy."
"I keep telling you, there's no turbulence! We feel completely motionless right now."
No response was forthcoming from Harold. He had heard what the flight attendant said, but he was right now very focused on trying to stay in control of his own sense of equilibrium. His eyes were shut, his hands gripped the armrest even harder than before, and all over his body, he felt a fresh wave of perspiration.
The flight attendant had by now realized that not all was well with Harold. "Are you okay, sir?" he asked, but Harold only heard it in echoes. Some primitive part of his brain was able to process the auditory input and understand it, but every ounce of higher function he had was trying to make the world stop spinning in front of him.
Harold was still rational, though. In his mind, he completed the puzzle. If there really was no turbulence, what was the cause of this? The only other time he had felt this way was when he had some terrible indigestion from eating some bad fish.
Wait, what had he eaten for his in-flight meal? Fish! Of course. The world was spinning even faster now, but Harold had the answer, he had his way out.
Suddenly, Harold's eyes flung themselves open, and without warning, he violently ralphed all over the stunned flight attendant. He felt much better.