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Where were you last night? She asked me, I looked at her calm but wrinkled face, there was no use lying to her, but I had to find a convincing reason. I had been with her through the night,but she still knew, how did I slip?

Alliaena were did you go? She spoke again softly, as I struggled with my thoughts. Taebithe was my grandmother, she had been with me since my mother died giving birth to me, my father was still unknown. There was a rumor that he had been of The Hukka,beings from across the Rollcraven. As I grew up I realized I had a special ability to be in two places at one time, I had been frightened at first and told no one except Reigardt, my Lover. We both could go past the Rollcraven and spend time together free away from prying eyes and wagging tongues.

Last night we did it once more, I never realized there could be a Watcherm no one hardly thought about the rollcraven and no really cared to go past.
Alliaena, you will answer me, yes? She said for the last time,turning around to look firmly at me, her piercing green eyes, a shade that one could only find under the Lapaen waters, her dark hair contrasting sharply with her porcelain skin.

"Grantae", my special name for her. "I had been deep in thought. Im almost tweenteen now, I will be married to Reigardt soon, I just need to know my father".

My child Taebithe said, I know what your father was, and you are lying to me, she took me by the shoulders and looked deep into my silver eyes, You have the Visen, only the Visen have the silver with hair like the raven.

Alliaena, I know where you were last night, I just wanted to know if you knew I was there with you.

There is a special room in hell where the flames are extra hot and you must sleep sitting straight up in molten lava, the sign on the door says “reserved for people who reclined their seatbacks the entire flight”. Most of us understand the discomfort we are inflicting on the poor schmo behind us and try to limit our reclining for the lights-out portion of the flight. If everyone leans back together in the manner of a synchronized, unattractive row back routine, then no one is unfairly crowded.

I had a seatback diva in front of me on my last flight to Lagos, we were barely airborne and there she was in my lap. Using my computer would now involve me cleaving my hard rock belly, yes those punches in the belly finally paid off and inserting the front half of the keyboard inside me, so that the front rows of letters are rendered inaccessible and I would have to make do with out great words like Vex, Crazy, Woman which of course would become Woa! Quite appropriate for the situation at hand.

Defeated, I tried to watch the little TV mounted in the seatback in front of me. Alas the screen was so close to my face that my eyes were crossing. Shrek had become a set of perfectly choreographed twin Shreks, which was one or possibly two more Shreks than I could handle.
In desperation I turned to my complimentary copy of the BA In-flight catalogue and began to read, one of the products on discount was a stain-free shirt on those days when you have to handle a lot of sheet, “the best fountain pen money can buy” boasted another ad excitedly “who would buy this?" I said to the man in the aisle seat, he was busy waving down a flight attendant.
Miss? he was holding up his knees, is there room in the overhead bin for these?
I had to laugh, gosh you just have to love the British sacs, Sarcsam I mean. Just then we hit a pocket of turbulence and bloody mary mix slopped onto the chinos jacket of the man, I pointed to the stain-free shirt “you need this” I said, The man did not smile. His expression was like a Madame Tussauds creation, displeasd and clearly embarrassed about the situation yet firmly stoic.

More often these days you must board a plane as a general going to war, you must defend your turf, your airless abode.The occupier of the next seat will make his move upon your armrest the moment your alertness diminishes, you will return from the bathroom to find an elbow planted in the little vinyl peninsula where your people once roamed free.
The battle for armrest dominance has grown ever intense in the era of the laptop, the air plane seat , designed to be a chair and never very good at it has now been asked to perform double duty as an office. Soon People will be bringing fitness equipment and sewing machines.

Complex rules apply to the space beneath your seat because it belongs technically to the person behind. On my second flight out to the UK, I was awakened by the woman behind me “Excuse me?" She was holding a plastic juice cup, this is come to my side, I had put my empty cup under my seat and it had slid backwards crossing an imaginary line in the carpet, she was apparently annoyed, her eyes were squinty, her nostrils were flaring as though she was about to dispense tissue through her nose, the tribal mark on her face didn’t help matters. Kilode?, this is come indeed I thought. People were staring so I took the cup.

Later that night, a nightmare shaded foot made a stealth assault on the back of my right armrest, it was her, the defender of the borderverse. "Excuse me?" I elbowed the foot ungently, "this is come to my side".

Several hours went by without incident, I was beginning to drift off when I heard a driving, tinny noise , ch-ch-ch ch-h, ch-ch, The woman behind me had mobilized the most fearsome weapon in modern airplane arsenal , the overly loud headphones.

I waved my hot towel in surrender.