Some of the fathers put on outfits.

   So many "popular" choices and options were "tied" in preference. 

  That turned out to be "a good thing" but not before a potentially hot thing (hot good? Travolta asked of a sauce for an "ad" audition) would test our grits and nettles.  

  Everyone in The City in the States had gotten so busy trying to be great, we almost zoomed off "into the future" without tying up loose ends.  

  And, computering was outpacing human ability to even observe let alone co-participate in the action.  

  Some people were in a necessary time of reflection as per coached by advisors and clergy. 

  I asked him again as he shut the cockpit's accordion door behind him and went back to the midsection of the plane.

  The answer was still no.  I could not marry that boy, he stood up and pointed, and not that one and not that one either.  He pointed at an uncle.  "Oh Daddy.  You are the cruelest man on earth." 

  "At least I'M STILL ON EARTH," HE plunked back down into his seat and crossed his arms so hard and fast he punched my mother in the face by accident.  

  The engines started.  The stewards and stewardesses situated and we started to roll. I was staring at the back of my awful father's fat head, stubborn old man, my boyfriend whispered.

  The front of the plane went.  We did not.