The letter from the solid ground

Dear Daniela,
I’m really grateful to your friends for taking care of me. I also appreciated the attention you paid to my health condition during the days I was in coma, but you needn’t have worried – I’m watched carefully here, your friends are really high-qualified doctors. And a charming girl, one of my nurses, even brought me a bar of a bitter chocolate. She explained that it would “optimize the recovering process”. Despite being charming she is very qualified too.

I’d prefer to describe my being at this hospital for ages, than to remember the details of that day. To be honest, I don’t have a slightest idea how it happened, so doubtfully I can make the situation any clear. The only valuable information I can give you is probably hidden somewhere between the events described in this letter. Well, there are no more words for postponing:

The air was warm and calm that day; the wind touched tenderly the fresh green grass at the small loan in front of the airport building. There was a usual fuss at the doors; groups of people with their luggage were hastened in and out, yakking to each other or talking on the cell. And here I was - wearing new felt coat, anticipating a wonderful flight to Poland. Nothing could make a person expect anything strange that morning.
But something inappropriate for this charming place attracted my attention - there was strange tall skinny man. He was standing motionless, like an ice statue, staring at clear blue sky with one small cloud at the horizon. Then in a sharp movement he put on his black old-fashion hat and came through the airport front-doors, carrying a black crocodile handbag in his left hand.

He rapidly went through the customs officer, without saying a word. And no one even suspected that he could be a smuggler! No one asked him to open his handbag! Not a single person paid attention to his strange behavior. But he also didn’t bother about the events around. He didn’t even turn his head around to have a look at the little girl, begging loudly with big tears glistering through her rosy cheeks not to put her doll through the X-rays. Her tired-looking father in an old gray coat embraced her in a hope to calm down. The expression of a disgust glanced at his stone-gray face when he looked at the couple near the check-in desk. They wanted to buy the tickets for the flight they hadn’t booked beforehand. A chubby thirty-year old man was swinging a pack of dollar notes in front of the officer’s face and his tanned wife dressed in a fur coat was hysterically complaining about the customs officer that hadn’t allowed her not to declare all her golden jewelry. Using the atmosphere of a chaos the couple made, the man passed by the check-in desk without being mentioned.

Passing through the embarkation gates he caused a little trouble – a small toy-terrier started to bark madly, it seemed that the dog was trying to tear off a lead or, at least, to pull it out from the owner’s hands. The owner was a plump woman wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a motley coat. The strange man asked her in a hoarse voice if she had a vet certificate for her rat. The woman blushed, became puzzled and started to rummage in her bag. But the man wasn’t interested either in the dog or in its vet certificate anymore. With a sure gait he continued the way to the embarkation and soon passed out of sight. 

I followed him thoughtfully with my eyes, being proud that I was lucky to be a brought-up and pleasant young man with some quantity of good manners. But twenty minutes later, when I eventually reached the custom officer after staying in a queue, I was eager so badly to be that strange man who hadn’t had any problems on his way to the aircraft! Going through the customs, filling in the declaration form, a fuss with the opening of my luggage and this document fuss slightly spoiled my lively spirit. They even tried to confiscate the manuscript of your new book that you had given me as a present. They thought I was a smuggler, as this book was going to be published in Poland only the next week. Of cause, I was really proud to realize that you’re such a famous writer that even customs officers know the announced day of the publishing of your book. As you probably know, I solve that problem by making a call to your assistant, who confirmed them, that I hadn’t told a lie. She mentioned your signature on the manuscript and they minded this as a sensible proof.  So nice of them, because, before the call, they had been absolutely sure it was a fake one.

Eventually, I reached the aircraft. By that time I had completely forgotten about the strange man I had seen at the airport. But he was there, sitting at the front part of the compartment, near the door of the pilot cabin. He was motionless and his unblinking eyes were exploring the white wall in front of him. My seat was near the window, but it was occupied by a woman with the toy terrier. Fortunately, her dog was at the luggage compartment. But still I wasn’t that brave to ask her to take a seat according to the ticket and just took the seat near the aisle.

 I turned around and found that the seats at the right side belonged to the little girl with the doll and her father. I smiled friendly to the girl, but instead of having a look at me and smile back, she just turned around her doll’s head. I asked the girl about her name. She said it was Dolores. I mentioned that Dolores was a very serious name and it was more suitable for a grown-up woman than for a little girl. Then I asked if I could call her Dolly instead of Dolores. She answered that Dolly was too an unserious name more suitable for a doll than for a person of any age. After saying that, she smiled with a self-proud smile of a child.
The stewardess made us to go through all the “preparing for the flight” formalities; she wanted to come out of the compartment, but the strange man stopped her. They had a short conversation, at the end of which, the stewardess nodded and gestured him to follow her. They went to the pilot cabin.

I took your script to enjoy it again, recline on the seat and relaxed waiting for the craft to take off. In five minutes the stewardess's voice informed that we were taking off. I noticed nice a lilac smell, but I didn’t take it as anything inappropriate. The fellow-woman complained about the headache. Suddenly, I realized that I hadn’t taken my medicine for the airsickness. I feverishly started to search for it in my jacket, but I couldn’t find it. With a feeling of a coming death I realized that during the fuss about the manuscript I hadn’t paid any attention to the medicine bottle and it must had been confiscated at the customs. The woman noticed my movements and offered a mint candy. I told her it didn’t work for my case. Desperate, I got silent and took the most comfortable position for waiting the sickness to begin.

In ten minutes or so I realized that we still hadn’t taken off. I checked up the window – we were on the solid ground. I called for the stewardess. With a picturesque expression of surprise on her face, she said we were ten hundred meters in the sky. I looked around. My fellow woman thought I was mad, and this thought was quite readably reflected in her glare. The stewardess disappeared at the back of the compartment. Dolores said that I didn’t have to worry about my brain condition – we really were at the airport. But, suddenly, the rich couple sitting behind me contradicted it. The wife got airsick and started to swear loudly. People don’t get airsick on the ground, it’s a known fact.

The woman at the fellow seat asked if I’d like a mint candy now. I refused and explained that we were still on the airport. In reply she pointed to “big clouds and a small puddle, which in fact is the biggest lake near the city” in the window. But THERE WERE NO CLOWDS; THERE WAS AN AIRPORT BUILDING IN THE WINDOW. I told her that minor fact, may be too loudly, because my notification caused a chaos at the compartment. Passengers got fussed and called me a psycho.  I looked at the Dolores in a search of support. She understood it and screamed loudly in an ear-piercing voice of a kid that “The mister is not a psycho!!!” Situation was getting worse. 

I unfastened the belt and went to the pilot cabin. Both pilots were unconscious. I ran to the steward’s compartment. There I found a stewardess having a lovely talk with the strange man. I asked her, may be not as calmly as I wanted to, about what the hell was happening with the plane and its pilot; and why the whole compartment thought we were flying when I clearly see that we were on the ground. As a proof I said that I didn’t feel airsickness but I always do.
The man took a scent bottle out of his pocket and spread perfume right into my face. I felt familiar smell of lilac. The man advised me to check up the window nod. I hastened back to the passenger compartment and did it. It occurred that we had really been flying at least for half an hour. I couldn’t believe my eyes and accidentally verbalize it.

 Dolores said in a sad voice that now I WAS mad. To be honest, I believed her, because all of the passengers were sleeping. It was more like a coma than a sleep. I shook the woman who had taken my seat near the window. She didn’t wake up. The girl said it was useless; he had pinched her father a hundred times. Feverishly, I turned on my cell and dial 911.  Suddenly, I felt a bad giddiness. I gave my cell to Dolores and asked her to beg for help. I was hardly on my feet by the time she took it, and a second later I fell down at the aisle. The last memory was a dark pending shadow-graph of the strange man.

Oh my dear friend, I really doubt this information will help anyone to find that men. The doctors and nurses don’t tell me anything about that plane and the passengers. They say I am not allowed to be worried. From a newspaper I read, I know that I’m the first who recovered from this coma. What happened to the other passengers? I hope everyone is alive. But the thing I worried most of all is Dolores. I beg you, Daniela, find her and her father and make sure they’re fine. I hope to erase that day from my memory but I can’t till I know the girl is safe.

I’m looking forward to your visit. Don’t forget to bring your published book, I eager to have a look at it. You must have sailed a thousand of copies during the month I was in coma! Hope to see you soon.
 
Sincerely yours, Oliver.