The Tsunami Thrill Ride - Prologue - "The Wanderer"
I’ve never been a huge fan of flying. My father once told me that it takes about fifteen minutes to fall from forty thousand feet in an airplane. So the worst thing about crashing wasn’t actually crashing, but it was coming to terms with the fact that you’re about to die a fiery death and there was fuck all you could do about it. He told me this when I was nine years old and about to get a plane for the very first time. He had a way with words like that. So you could imagine how I felt, sitting between a cute young girl with hair that was dyed a bright shade of violet and a hugely oversized woman with an attitude and who kinda smelt like pickles, about to fly across an ocean for the first time in my life. Combine that with the fact that I hadn’t used in about thirty-six hours…yeah I was pretty fucking miserable. I was sweating like a bitch and the girl next to me kept putting her hand on my knee. She was like thirteen years old and her parents and younger brother were sitting right behind us. I could feel her pops’ eyes burning me in the back of the head like I was doing something wrong. What could I do? I was stuck in a small seat between a fat, smelly, bitch and a chick who clearly was about to rage into hormone overload, looking at me like I was Justin Bieber with a penis. I was knee deep into the first stage of withdrawal when the plane took off. I couldn’t take it. The big bitch kept stealing my armrest and the purple-haired teenager kept staring at me, and that’s when it hit me. I remembered, as if the memory was just stuck in my brain by Jesus himself, about a little bit of shit I still had left in the bottom of my pack of Newports. I had to make a break for it.
I unclicked my seatbelt and stood straight up. I reached underneath my seat and scooped up my backpack in a rapid motion, hoping the evil looking flight attendant with the wrinkled dress didn’t see me. I basically stepped on the fat woman’s lap, which in hindsight was not a very nice thing to do, and bee lined it for the bathroom. Just before I reached the bathroom, a very nice flight attendant dude stopped me in my tracks. “You can’t go in here right now.” he said. “We’re in the middle of our ascent and the Captain still has the seatbelt sign on.” He said it very nicely even though he could’ve just told me to go sit back down. I wanted to listen to him, so I did. I turned back around and headed for my seat when it just hit me. I had an uncontrollable urge to just not listen to whatever the fuck anyone said to me. I spun around and again bee lined it for the bathroom, and again the nice blondie male stewardess met me at the door. “Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to please sit down.” He stared at me with a stern look like I was being scolded. I had to think quickly. “Denny….” I read his name off his nametag, who the fuck name’s their kid Denny? “I have a really bad case of explosive diarrhea and I’m about to shit all over that nice lady and young girl over there. Maybe you can help me clean up my diarrhea .” His eyes widened at the thought of what that mess could’ve actually looked like. He didn’t even respond. He just nodded a bit and let me pass.
I busted into the bathroom and locked the door behind me, this bitch was definitely not vacant. I ripped open my old school Jansport like a man possessed and searched frantically for my pack of cigarettes. I freaked out for a short moment when I couldn’t find it right away, but then after about six seconds of looking, there she was; a beautiful pack of Newport box. As was my custom, I put on my ear buds and clicked my iPod on to shuffle. Music has been the single most important thing of my life, like for real. I can’t remember a huge moment in my life that I didn’t either have something playing in the background or something thumping out of a bud and into my ear. It had totally written itself into my autobiography. It showed up one day and never left and I’m probably better off because of it. During every great moment of my life, music has been there; and this time was no different. First, I put on some tune-age. For this specific day I chose ‘The Wanderer’ by Dion. It was an oldie but a goodie that a warm spot in my heart. When I was a kid, my grandmother used to play that record like it was on fucking repeat. We would dance around and she would just love shit like that. She was a nice lady who just happened to have an immature girl for a daughter, but that’s a different story for a different day. I guess it’s pretty fucked up that the only song in this world that reminds me of my grandma was in constant rotation on my smack playlist. Anyway…back to the more important stuff.
I removed that small but beautiful bag of off-white powder from the bottom of the pack. I smiled as wide as I could before shoving my nose into the small plastic bag and sniffing as hard as I could. There it was. That feeling that I missed, loved, and hated all at the same time. Without thinking, I lit up a Newport and sat down on the toilet, singing probably a lot louder than I should have. I took a deep drag of my cigarette and then I’m pretty sure I passed out for a second, only to be awoken by loud knocking on the door. I quickly flushed my cigarette and the now empty baggy before opening the door to see my new friend, Denny. “Are you smoking in here?!” he demanded. I couldn’t help but smile at him for a second. “Dude….I…it’s an airplane, bruh.” He got a bit angrier but I just couldn’t care any less at that moment, something I sure he picked up on. “If you don’t go back to your seat right now sir, I’ll have no choice but to have you removed from the plane when we arrive in Monaco.” he snapped. I stared at him for another long moment before I realized what he had just said. I panicked. I didn’t know what to do so I just blurted it out. “Monaco?” He nodded, a bit confused. “Fucks, dude. I’m supposed to be in Morocco!” He just shook his head and continued to threaten me if I didn’t just sit down. I spent the next several hours drooling on the shoulder of the big lady and I’m pretty sure the teenage chick tried to grab my wang a of couple times. When I woke up I was sober, broke, and in a foreign country. Correction, I was sober, broke and in the wrong foreign country. Things weren’t starting out great for my new job and me. Oh by the way…me? My name’s Johnny, but you can call me Tsunami.
