Henry: Three
His breathing paused every now and again, and people began to cheer, only to be interrupted by a grand snort and continued snoring.
Ira waned; chins drooping, spittle forming at the corner of his mouth, his face oscillating between barely aware and totally unconcious. His weight shifted forward suddenly and his forehead smacked against the inch-thick glass, snapping his eyes open before his brain had a chance to re-engage.
"Where are we?" The words squeezed through a tremendous yawn, barely intelligible.
"Over Greenland, I think."
"Oh. Much longer?"
"Four hours or so."
"Mmph." He shifted his bulk further wall-ward, cramming the miniature pillow between his hand and head and quickly resuming his open-mouthed slumber.
Henry couldn't sleep. How could he? England! They were doing it! About ten hours ago they'd decided they would. And here they were, en route. Over Greenland. Over Greenland!
There was a velvet darkness absorbing light through the oval window by Ira's head and a sound of muffled, steady hurricanes. The flight attendants spoke in a cheery British accent, continuously reminding Henry of the excitement yet to come. He shifted impatiently in his seat. Ira began to snore.
At first it was a calm, heavy breathing; wet and irregular. After about five minutes, it blossomed into an impressive and punctual snarl. Everywhere people were waking up cursing in various languages and dialects, shifting and turning as best as they could to see what creature was making that terrible noise. Some children began to cry, scared that the plane was falling apart. Within ten minutes, nearly all of coach was unhappily awake and a flight attendant was politely (if a bit forcefully) asking Henry if his friend would like a drink. Henry poked Ira in the ribs. Ira slept on. His breathing paused every now and again, and people began to cheer, only to be interrupted by a grand snort and continued snoring. Conspiracies were hatched; murderous plans perfected. A group of high-schoolers looked ready to act when all at once Ira awoke, smiling. The hurricanes were once again noticable. The make-shift mile-high would-be mob dissolved.
"Whoa. Shouldn't have had that extra mini-drink. Pardon my fat ass for a second, would you?" Ira grinned, wiping bits of spittle from his mouth and rubbing the pillow crease marks on the side of his face and jowells. Henry smiled at his friend, shaking his head.
"Do you have any idea how loud you were snoring?"
"Come on, Henry. You know I don't snore. I breath deeply. Besides, it's good for you. Cleanses the senses." He winked cheerfully, amused by his own wit. "Now get the hell out of the way. I've got to go." He grabbed himself and did a demonstrative dance.
"Okay, okay. But don't expect me to hold off these people when you go to sleep again. Some were getting really mad. I tried to wake you up, but you just snored louder."
"I'm not going to sleep again. And neither are you. We've got two days, Henry. Two days! There will be no more sleeping." He nodded matter of factly. "Now let me out of here before I wet myself."
Henry acquiesed, reluctantly. He was tempted to torture his friend for a few more seconds. "No more sleeping, eh? We'll see about that." But in truth Henry was thrilled. Sleep was for the weak, boring, non-serious travelers. They would do it all, see it all. And time was already wasting.
Henry smiled at the elderly woman to his left. She returned an angry brow. He smiled wider, waving. She shot a terse breath out her nostrils and looked away. Great, Henry thought, Making friends already.
Ira was back from the toilet. As he turned to enter his seat an escalating vibration escaped his back-side about twelve inches from the old woman's face. Thirty-seven pairs of eyes suddenly fixed themselves on Ira. The old woman's jaw dropped. Henry suppressed a chuckle.
"Oops. Excuse me. It's the airplane food; gives me gas." Ira was oblivious to the attention he was given. He sat down with a plop. "Now. Where were we?"
"No more sleeping."
"Right. And first thing we do when we get there is look for an English guide. We need an English guide. But a good one; not one of these nine to five blokes. One that will take us anywhere, anytime, and can talk to people. Someone fun. Someone real."
"Sounds great. How do we do that?"
"We make a sign, and we sit where people can see it. Lots of people. We'll find someone, trust me. I know we will." Henry's four-year-old smile was back in full effect, and Ira mirrored the expression, nodding. "This is going to be great, Henry. Outstanding!"
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