Lenny is watching his colleague, Jim Whitecraft, eat a ham sandwich. He is taking enormous bites and making monstrous chomping sounds. Lenny looks away in disgust and when he glances back, Jim\u2019s face is flushed and bewildered. For a brief moment, Lenny considers pretending he doesn\u2019t notice. But when Jim stands and points at his throat, Lenny comes behind him, wraps his arms around his pendulous stomach and pushes upward. After a few thrusts, a remnant of a sandwich lands on the carpet of O\u2019Hare Airport. Jim collapses and supine, he stares at Lenny with the grateful eyes of a rescued animal.<\/p>\n
On the flight to Philadelphia for a conference (\u201cWelcome To Tomorrow: Life Insurance and Annuities Reimagined\u201d), Jim lifts his scotch and soda in an unspoken toast. As they touch cups, Jim shakes his head and Lenny smiles awkwardly.<\/p>\n
Jim\u2019s muteness on the subject of Lenny\u2019s Heimlich rankles, but doesn\u2019t surprise Lenny. Lenny, who works in the actuarial department, doesn\u2019t know Jim well but he\u2019s had enough contact to take his measure. An insurance salesman of the old school: arrogant, crude, loud, shallow, possibly alcoholic. Probably a former jock who has grown lazy and corpulent. Lenny puts away his copy of The North American Actuarial Journal<\/em> and basks in what he\u2019s done. Little red-haired Leonard Reister, detester of gym class and organized sports, human punching bag at Harrison Elementary School, has become a hero.<\/p>\n Lenny\u2019s reverie is interrupted by the rattling of the plane and a stomach-heaving drop in altitude. When the seat belt sign illuminates with a sharp ding he looks over at Jim, who takes a long, unperturbed swallow of scotch. Jim\u2019s nonchalance makes Lenny more anxious.<\/p>\n The plane hits another patch and as Lenny fiercely clutches the armrest, his hands start to tremble and numbness creeps into his extremities. His heart pounds. Jim stares at him.<\/p>\n \u201cYou ok, buddy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis is it. We’re going to die,\u201d Lenny says.<\/p>\n Jim laughs, spitting scotch on the seat in front of him. \u201cNobody\u2019s gonna die. It\u2019s just turbulence.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve always known I would have a violent death.\u201d<\/p>\n The panic moves Lenny\u2019s mouth like a ventriloquist manipulating a dummy.<\/p>\n Jim looks at him with a mixture of wonder and bemusement. \u201cCalm down, pal. Have some of this.\u201d Jim passes the cup and Lenny, who rarely drinks, slugs it down.<\/p>\n A few more minutes of terror, then the turbulence subsides. As the anxiety leaks out of him, Lenny asks the flight attendant for a scotch. Jim smiles his approval. He finishes it then orders another. As the plane starts its descent, Lenny is close to euphoria. The narrow aisles seem to have expanded. The clouds outside the window, fluffy and soothing, smile at him, wishing him well.<\/p>\n At the hotel in Philadelphia, Lenny sleeps the dreamless sleep of the redeemed.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The next morning, the conference is packed. Lenny bobs and weaves through the throng to get to his sessions: The Future of Underwriting; Claims in an Unstable World; Taking Behavior-Based Pricing to the Next Level.<\/p>\n At the after-session cocktail hour, Lenny surveys the crowd, focusing on those alien creatures, extroverts, who glide across the room, effortlessly dropping in and out of conversations. Jim spots him and ambles over. Lenny reddens as he remembers his meltdown on the plane. \u201cHow about we get outta here?\u201d Jim says, stuffing two shrimp in his mouth. \u201cLet\u2019s hit the town. There\u2019s no law that says we have to hang out with a bunch of insurance geeks.\u201d Lenny doesn\u2019t argue. He\u2019d rather face Jim than a crowded room.<\/p>\n \u201cMy mother always said that one day I\u2019d choke if I didn\u2019t stop shoving food in my face like it was a race.\u201d They\u2019re sitting at a bar a couple of blocks from the hotel. \u201cYou saved my life. I should\u2019ve thanked you. I wanted to, but…\u201d He raises his palm skyward in bafflement.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s ok,\u201d Lenny says. In an instant, Jim has been transformed from a giant lout into a vulnerable boy being hectored by his mother.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry…\u201d Lenny searches for the right words. \u201cAbout what happened on the plane.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe all have our problems. You\u2019re afraid of flying?\u201d<\/p>\n Lenny nods. \u201cAlso crowds, tight spaces, and dogs.\u201d He has other fears but figures he\u2019s divulged enough.<\/p>\n \u201cIf it weren\u2019t for fear there would be no demand for insurance.\u201d<\/p>\n Lenny raises his scotch. \u201cI\u2019ll drink to that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m afraid of spiders,\u201d Jim says.<\/p>\n Lenny squints, confused. Is he making fun of him?<\/p>\n \u201cWhen I was a kid, I was rambunctious. Bouncing off the walls from ADHD. When my dad had enough he\u2019d lock me in the basement. There wasn\u2019t anything in the basement except darkness and spiders. Big ones.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI have panic attacks,\u201d Lenny says. \u201cThey come out of nowhere. Like tornadoes.\u201d<\/p>\n After this rapid exchange of secrets, silence. Jim taps his forehead, trying to summon a thought. \u201cThe whole world is a very narrow bridge and the important thing is not to be afraid. That\u2019s Nachman of Breslov, an 18th Century rabbi.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re Jewish?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, but I minored in religion at U of I. I\u2019m not as dumb as I look.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Three hours later, they stumble out of the bar, their arms around each other. Jim picks Lenny up, rocks him in his arms for a few seconds then gently puts him down. \u201cYou\u2019re a skinny son of a bitch. But I like you.\u201d<\/p>\n This strikes Lenny as hilarious and he bursts into drunken high-pitched titters.<\/p>\n They can\u2019t remember the way back to the hotel. It seems like days ago since they were there. Was it to the right or the left? They pick a direction and lurch along until Lenny notices that the streets have become darker and the neighborhood more decrepit.<\/p>\n \u201cThis is the wrong way,\u201d Lenny says.<\/p>\n \u201cLife is a journey, not a destination, Lenny,\u201d Jim says.<\/p>\n Somewhere in the distance there is a shout and then the clang of something metallic hitting the pavement. \u201cThis is not a neighborhood we want to be in.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOk buddy, relax. We\u2019ll turn around. Let me just rest here a second.\u201d Jim leans against a graffiti-filled wall.<\/p>\n A gravelly voice comes from behind them, saying something about money.<\/p>\n Lenny wheels around. All he can see in the dark street is the outline of someone in ill-fitting clothes and a flat cap.<\/p>\n \u201cNo money for you, friend,\u201d Jim says. \u201cWe spent it all at the bar. You\u2019re out of luck.\u201d<\/p>\n The guy comes closer, walking with a limp. He\u2019s missing most of his teeth and has the beginnings of a salt-and-pepper beard. He\u2019s probably in his fifties.<\/p>\n \u201cBullshit. Gimme your wallets.\u201d<\/p>\n Jim moves off the wall. \u201cAre we supposed to be afraid of you, my good man? Is that the idea? Because you\u2019re not an imposing figure. And I\u2019ll have you know I wrestled in high school. Heavyweight. Undefeated in my senior year.\u201d<\/p>\n The guy lifts a gun from under his jacket and points it at them. \u201cDon\u2019t fuck with me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat you must realize, sir, is that we are first-time visitors to your city and you are being a terrible ambassador. We are seasoned insurance men from Chicago and deserve respect.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCut it out,\u201d Lenny hisses. He reaches into his back pocket, takes out his wallet and with a trembling hand, offers it.<\/p>\n \u201cCough it up,\u201d the guy says, pointing at Jim.<\/p>\n Jim raises an index finger. \u201cYou can have my wallet on one condition. Give me one goddamn reason why you deserve it more than I do.\u201d<\/p>\n The man lifts the pistol and angles it at Jim. Lenny watches. He can\u2019t feel his legs.<\/p>\n \u201cOne last chance, asshole. I\u2019m not playing with you.\u201d<\/p>\n Lenny lunges at the guy and the gun goes skittering across the pavement. Jim picks it up as its owner turns and runs, his shirt tail flapping behind him.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat the hell is wrong with you?\u201d Lenny gasps. \u201cHe could have killed you.\u201d<\/p>\n Jim drops the gun in a nearby garbage can. Then he puts his arm around Lenny, bringing him in close. \u201cIt wasn\u2019t my time. And you are a fucking hero. Twice over.\u201d<\/p>\n After Lenny stops hyperventilating, they start back toward the hotel. They walk in silence, the booze and adrenaline still coursing through them. A thought, like a jagged piece of glass, pokes at Jim: did he have a death wish? If not, why the taunting of a desperate, armed man? Lenny\u2019s befogged brain examines a new image of himself, unfamiliar and jarring, as if inspecting a diamond he has found in the gutter.<\/p>\n As they walk into the lobby, the clock behind the front desk reads 12:01. A banner advertising the conference greets them: \u201cWelcome to Tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Lenny puts away his copy of The North American Actuarial Journal and basks in what he\u2019s done. Little red-haired Leonard Reister, detester of gym class and organized sports, human punching bag at Harrison Elementary School, has become a hero.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":23862,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[4591,4592],"class_list":["post-22933","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-fear-of-flying","tag-insurance-salesmen","writer-wim-hylen"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22933","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=22933"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22933\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":23863,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22933\/revisions\/23863"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/23862"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=22933"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=22933"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=22933"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}