The Man Sitting In 19B With The Blood Clot In His Leg

Does not know it is there
He is tired, uncomfortable
He does not feel like checking the time
Or doing the math
He knows checking does nothing
Though, he must semi-consciously
Suppress the habitual urge to do so

His name is Alvin
He hates this
And has gone to great lengths
To hide his disdain
Not wanting the hassle
Of social tendency
Toward blood in the water
He delicately introduces himself as ‘Al’
Al’s 3 children are young
None of them know Alvin
They only exist
To evidence Al’s idiosyncrasies
And prowess
They are meant to add weight

Al is on his way to Pittsburgh
He will not make it there
So the reasons why matter little
The blood clot
Has nothing to do with it

Al, or Alvin as I like to call him
Because he can’t hear me
Is on his way to the Ramada Inn
In Breezewood, Pennsylvania
He is flying into Pittsburgh
To visit friends in Charleroi first
Again, all of these are unimportant details
What is important
Is the blood clot in his leg
He still has no idea it is there

Alvin is listening to a randomized mix of music
The last few songs have been dreamy and slow
An up-tempo favorite of Alvin’s
Is about to come on
When it does
The clot, which is a partial obstruction
Will be dislodged
In the time it has taken to tell you this
The song has changed
Alvin still has no awareness of the blood clot
He’s really very lucky
For a boy who nearly drowned
When he was eleven

While the blood clot roams around Alvin
It’s the man in 23F
We should be concerned about
He has managed
His whole life
To never come within three feet
Of a peanut
Which, when you think about it
Is really a miracle in this modern age
Because the man in 23F is deathly allergic
To most kinds of nuts
We’ll call him Howard
Ward is about to eat his first bag of airplane peanuts
He has never flown before
And the initial novelty wearing off
Has left him peckish

Ward slams back the hand-warm nuts
In defiance of his strict nut-hating parents
He has escaped them to go to college
Why do they hate nuts?
So glad you asked
They belong to an Octopus-worshipping cult
That holds nut-hatred as one of its prime tenets
Ward hates his parents
Almost as much as he hates
The Order of the Cephalopod
But all the tentacle lashings
Ward endured as a boy
Have nothing to do
With Alvin’s blood clot
Which is getting closer to his heart

As soon as Ward comes in direct contact
With the honey-roasted gold
He begins coughing and choking
His body suddenly freaks out
Anaphylactic shock and all
Ward’s throat swells shut
And the extremely generous nurse in 18C
Gives up her ridiculously expensive Epi-Pen
The plane is in chaos
Alvin, however, is in a noise-canceling bubble
Unaware that Ward is fighting to breathe
Alvin is a bit up his own ass
The clot begins to get smaller as it travels
It catches again
The pilot makes an emergency landing
On account of poor Ward
He will be told
As he is off-loaded in Ohio
That his parents have been called

As Alvin is shuffled off the plane
He realizes he is not in Pennsylvania
The blood clot fizzles
He decides to rent a car
And drive the rest of the way
So he can stretch his legs


About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook:
This entry was posted in Poetry, Written, Written Work and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Man Sitting In 19B With The Blood Clot In His Leg

  1. Cleveland Wall says:

    I adore this poem. That is all.

    Liked by 1 person

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