You’re on a long flight, and a palm reader sitting next to you insists she reads your palm. You hesitate, but agree. What does she tell you?
There is nothing worse than sitting next to a poor screaming child on a long flight. Oh wait. There is. Try sitting next to a palmist who is determined to read your palm. She was so damn relentless that I finally, but begrudgingly gave in and handed it over, so speak. Although, as I did I had the visualisation of stuffing my hand over her mouth, rather than offering it to her to read. I think that brief, naughty but enjoyable image, made it easier for her to grasp my hand and hold it closer to her eyes.
She began by saying that there was one prediction that she would leave until the end. I am not sure I can hold back my “need” to know this “earth shattering” prediction (yes, sarcasm). As the plane hit a period of turbulence, she said I would have a shortened life span. It nearly ended right there, when I choked on my coffee at the timing of her pronouncement. Furthermore, a quick glance at her face, showed her intense concentration. She totally believed what she was saying.
I eased my grasp on the coffee cup and sat back a little in my seat to enjoy the show. She looked at my hand like it had the answers to every question in the universe. I had an over riding urge to shout “42” but managed to control myself at the last minute. Yes, I was referencing “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy”, but come on, palm reading is up there with science fiction or fantasy.
She solemnly declared I had yet to meet my soul mate. I am guessing she based this on the absence of a wedding band or the mark that there had ever been one worn. The only problem was that I had never worn my wedding ring set because my work meant they might catch a patient’s fragile skin and then later my hands had a tendency to swell, making the wearing of them painful. She was so serious about her “idea” that I just couldn’t disillusion her with the truth.
There was a moment of silence, where she appeared to be mesmerised by whatever she was seeing in my palm. I was just hoping it wasn’t dirt or leftover food scarps from the airplane meal earlier. I couldn’t remember if I had washed my hands recently. She spoke in a hushed tone, warning me that there would be moisture in my life, but was unsure if it was weather oriented or tears. OMG, I could see the rain over her shoulder and with her having the window seat, she must have seen it earlier. I had to slink down in the seat and couch, to attempt to hide my laughter.
Further laughter barely throttled down before it could offend her, included but was not limited to her comment about my mood being dark, not black but a solid deep blue. The laughter arose from the awareness that unlike my mood, which was now considerably lighter, she had described my jersey. I also found the prediction of being confined for periods of time, hilarious, as we were currently confined on a plane!
The announcement of the plane coming in to land was almost an intrusion on the pleasant and amusing time listening to the woman “read” my palm, as she gently held my hand in hers. I fastened my seat belt, not realising that I had released it earlier, something I never did. I said a simple thank you to my seat companion, for how do you say it wasn’t as bad as I thought without giving offence. Saying “no offence” does not seem to really work. I had found her a surprisingly restful companion, a rarity on a plane for me. Just as we were standing to exit the plane, I felt my arm tugged and turned back to my seat companion:
She quietly whispered: “I didn’t tell you my initial prediction”
“Oh?”, I waited for another “reading” of some aspect of my appearance or the plane, but instead she said:
“Yes. My final prediction and the very first I had, was that I would be entertaining enough that you would forget your fear of flying”