I was sitting in a hot spring surrounded by snowy mountains.
Snow monkeys everywhere, soaking peacefully like retired accountants on vacation. I closed my eyes. Finally, some peace.
THUMP.
Something hit me in the back. A small monkey sat behind me, staring at the sky like he had never met a spine in his life.
“Hey, buddy. I’m trying to relax.”
He tilted his head. THUMP. THUMP. Now there were two.
“Seriously? It’s an entire mountain. Go bother someone else.”
One of them jumped up and slammed into me. BANG.
My eyes snapped open. Seat back. Dark window. Engine hum.
Right. The plane.
I drifted off again. Five monkeys this time. One sat on my head, one pulled my ear, one used my back as a drum. BANG. BANG. BANG. The biggest one stuck out his tongue.
I woke up for real.
Someone was kicking my seat. Rhythmically. With commitment.
I turned around. A ten-year-old girl in pink sneakers stared straight into my eyes.
THUMP.
Beside her, her mother was glued to a tablet, watching a Turkish soap opera, a man in an expensive suit shouting at a crying woman. Giant noise-canceling headphones. The tablet was plugged into a fat power bank wedged beside her seat cushion.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Could you ask your daughter to stop kicking my seat?”
She pulled off one earcup. “She’s a child. Deal with it.”
“I noticed. She also has great aim.”
“Then move.”
“Where? The wing?”
She rolled her eyes and went back to her show. The girl smiled and kicked again. One of the monkeys had followed me onto the plane.
“Hey, sweetheart. Could you keep your feet down?”
“Mom says you have to deal with it.”
“Your mom says a lot of things.”
“She says that one a lot. Are you going to tell on me?”
“Only if you keep kicking.”
She kicked. Twice. Out of principle.
I’d had three hours of sleep, a week of conference meetings, and twelve hours of flight between me and my own bed. I didn’t want a miracle. I wanted a nap. I tried a pillow, a blanket, sitting sideways like a pretzel.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
I turned around again. “Ma’am, your daughter is still kicking my seat.”
“And you’re still complaining.”
“I’m consistent. It’s one of my better qualities.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t fly if you can’t stand kids.”
“I have two of my own. That’s why I taught them not to kick strangers.”
“Don’t tell me how to raise my daughter!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m still waiting for you to start.”
She put her headphones back on, slowly, like a gunslinger holstering a weapon.
I operate on hearts for a living. I know a thing or two about rhythm. This kid had none.
An hour later, the girl, Lily, got bored with my seat and tried her mother instead.
“Mom, I’m bored!”
“Watch something, honey.”
“I don’t want to!”
“Then find something else to do!”
Lily looked at the back of my seat. BANG.
I turned around one more time. “Listen, mister,” the mother hissed. “She’s a CHILD. Children get bored. Children move. If you wanted peace and quiet, you should’ve bought a private jet!”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m buying groceries. Enjoy your show.”
On the screen, the man was now the one crying. Finally, someone on that tablet was having a worse day than me.
Two more hours passed. Somewhere past four hundred kicks, I stopped counting.
Then the mother pulled off her headphones. “Lily, come on. Bathroom.”
“But I don’t need to go!”
“Well, I do. Move.”
They marched down the aisle. Silence. Beautiful, ringing silence. I almost cried.
Then I smelled something. Hot plastic.
I leaned over. The tablet still sat on her tray, plugged in. The power bank beside it looked slightly puffed up, and the cable was bent at a sharp angle. I wasn’t inventing anything. It really smelled.
For two hours, I had begged that woman to give her daughter some attention. Now I had a feeling she was about to give Lily her undivided attention.
I pressed the call button.
A flight attendant arrived. Her name tag said Emily.
“I think something’s wrong with the electronics behind me. It smells like overheated plastic, and the battery looks swollen.”
“Do you see any smoke?”
“No. But I figured you’d want to know before I do.”
She leaned in and sniffed. Her smile disappeared. “Did you touch it?”
“No, ma’am. I’m a surgeon. I know better than to poke swollen things.”
“Good. Please stay in your seat.”
She called over the senior flight attendant. Two minutes later, they had unplugged everything, bagged it, and carried it off toward the galley.
I sat there looking like a Sunday school teacher. “Is everything okay?”
“Just a precaution, sir.”
“Safety first.”
I tried my best to hide my Cheshire Cat grin. I’d spent two hours negotiating with a ten-year-old’s sneakers. Turns out a battery was a much better listener.
The mother and Lily came back. She sat down, reached for her tray, and froze.
“Where’s my tablet?”
I said nothing. She checked under the seat, then the seat pocket. Then she looked at me.
“WHAT DID YOU DO?”
“Good news. Your seat’s still here.”
“YOU TOOK MY TABLET!”
“I’m a surgeon, ma’am. Not a magician.”
She jabbed the call button. Emily came back.
“Ma’am, the power bank was overheating. We have to follow safety procedure.”
“There was nothing wrong with it!”
“It was unusually hot, and the battery was swollen. The crew will keep it until it’s checked.”
“HE did this! He’s angry because my daughter kicked his seat!”
I turned around slowly. “So you did notice.”
She blinked. “That’s not what I meant!”
“I want to speak to your supervisor!” she added.
“I paid for this flight!”
“So did I,” I said quietly. “Mine didn’t include a massage package.”
She dropped into her seat and pulled out her phone. Four percent. Her headphones blinked red and died in her hands. She turned the phone off and gripped it like the last lifeboat on a sinking ship.
No tablet. No headphones. No soap opera.
I put on my sleep mask.
For five minutes, it was quiet. I was almost asleep.
“Mom?”
“What?”
“I’m bored.”
“Go to sleep.”
“I’m not sleepy.”
I’M SLEEPY, her mother’s face said.
“Then look out the window!”
“It’s dark!”
“Then close your eyes!”
“Mooooom! How much longer?”
“Nine hours.”
“How many minutes is that?”
“Five hundred and forty,” I said.
Her mother leaned forward. “Nobody asked you!”
“Sorry. Occupational hazard. I like accurate numbers.”
Lily started counting to 540 out loud. At sixty-three, her mother cracked. “Stop counting! You’re giving me a headache!”
“But I like counting!”
“Then count in your head!”
“How do I do that?”
In twenty years of medicine, I had never wanted an answer to a question so badly.
They tried a word game. “Apple.” “Elephant.” “Tiger.” “Refrigerator.” “Rabbit.” “This is boring!”
Three minutes. A new record.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
But this time, her mother heard every single kick. No headphones, no tablet. Just the sound of her own child, in surround.
“LILY! Stop kicking his seat!”
“Why?”
“Because it’s annoying!”
“But you said he had to deal with it!”
I turned around. “She’s got a point.”
“STAY OUT OF THIS!”
“Gladly. I’ve been trying for three hours.”
Lily tugged her mother’s sleeve. “I’m hungry.”
“You just ate!”
“That was two hours ago!”
“Then drink some water!”
“I don’t want water!”
BANG.
“STOP KICKING!”
“My legs are tired!”
“Then put them somewhere else!”
“Where?!”
“I DON’T KNOW!”
I turned around. “Everything okay?”
“DO I LOOK OKAY?!”
“You look like someone dealing with a child.”
She turned on her phone. Four percent. “Here. Play a game. Quietly.”
Seven minutes later: “Mom, it died.”
Welcome to the club. Membership is free. Sleep is not included.
Emily brought Lily a coloring book. Ten minutes later, she was bored again. Her head appeared between our seats.
“Are you a real doctor?”
“Real enough.”
“Have you cut somebody open?”
“Several times a week.”
“Did they cry?”
“They were asleep. Lucky them.”
“Lily! Don’t talk to him!”
“I’ve been asking you to talk to her for three hours,” I said.
Lily kicked my seat again. Her mother was about to blow a gasket.
And I did something even I hadn’t expected. I offered to help.
I remembered a game my sons played whenever we were stuck waiting at airports. It usually bought me twenty minutes. Today, I’d happily settle for five.
“Lily, ever solved a crime?”
Her eyes widened. “A real one?”
“An extremely serious one. Somebody stole the last chocolate cookie from my kitchen, and nobody confessed. Three suspects: my sons and our dog. Your mother gets to be the detective.”
“Absolutely not,” her mother said.
“Then the criminal walks free.”
“Mom! Please! I want to catch him!”
THUMP.
“FINE! What’s the evidence?”
“Hold on. Every detective needs a badge.” I drew a star on my notepad. “Detective Lily. Officially appointed.”
Lily grinned like she’d just been promoted. “Where’s Mom’s badge?”
“She’s the chief. Chiefs don’t need badges.”
“Convenient,” her mother said.
“Hospital politics taught me.”
“Can I arrest people?” Lily asked.
“Only after you find evidence. And no kicking suspects.”
“Even bad guys?”
“Especially bad guys. They might kick back.”
Her mother snorted despite herself.
“Do we get handcuffs?”
“Budget cuts. You’ll have to use your imagination.”
“That’s a terrible police department.”
“You should see our coffee.”
The man one row over raised his cup. “I’d like to file a complaint.”
“Take a number,” I told him.
Lily started searching her mother’s purse for a pen. “Ask permission first,” I said.
“Mom, can I borrow it?”
“Yes. Thank you for asking.”
“See? Already solving crimes against airplane etiquette.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
Lily drew another star and handed it to her mother. “Now you’re officially my partner.”
“Does this job come with a salary?”
“Cookies,” Lily said.
I held up three fingers. “Ben had chocolate on his shirt. Max had crumbs in his pocket. And the dog had an empty cookie wrapper beside his bed.”
“The dog did it!” Lily announced.
“Detectives don’t guess. They interrogate witnesses.”
Her mother sighed. “Fine. Why did Ben have chocolate on his shirt?”
“He was baking brownies.”
“And Max?”
“He said the crumbs came from crackers.”
“What about the dog?”
“Can’t talk. Excellent lawyer.”
Lily giggled. “Mom, ask about the wrapper! Was it torn open?”
“No. Neatly folded.”
Her mother leaned forward, interested despite herself. “Dogs don’t fold wrappers.”
“Exactly,” Lily whispered. “Someone framed him!”
“Now you’re thinking like detectives. Max ate the cookie. Ben caught him and made him clean up. Max planted the wrapper to blame the dog.”
“That’s cheating!”
“That’s crime.”
“Another case!”
I pointed at her mother. “Detective, your turn. Invent a mystery.”
She looked at Lily. “My good lipstick. Last Tuesday.”
Lily suddenly studied her shoes.
“Oh, now THIS is interesting,” I said.
“Lily?”
“I only used it to color my doll’s mouth!”
Her mother stared. Then she laughed for the first time all flight.
“Case closed,” I said, pulling down my mask. “Absolutely no further appeals.”
Behind me, Lily demanded another mystery, and her mother started inventing one about missing house keys. For once, they were talking to each other instead of shouting at me.
I fell asleep.
When I woke, landing was an hour away. Four hours of sleep. Not bad for a man nearly murdered by pink sneakers. Lily was asleep against her mother’s shoulder. The woman looked as exhausted as I’d felt in Tokyo.
Before landing, she leaned forward. “Proud of yourself?”
“Very. Four hours.”
“You could’ve suggested that game earlier.”
“I did suggest something earlier. You told me to move.”
She looked away.
The wheels touched down. Lily woke. “Mom, can I have your tablet?”
“Not yet.”
“I’m bored!”
Her mother closed her eyes. “Please. Five minutes without that word.”
I stood and reached for my bag. “Good luck, ma’am.”
“With what?”
“The ride home.”
In the terminal, my wife, Sarah, had texted: Ben and Max were waiting for me. I couldn’t wait to see my boys. But first, I’d hug my wife and beg her never to buy them light-up sneakers.
I’ve spent twenty years fixing hearts. Sometimes the best cure for a headache is giving it back to whoever caused it.