#my ears die in areoplanes

[criminal-mids]

#29 - Cabin Pressure

Prompt: Sick on a Road Trip

Sickie: Reid

Caretaker(s): Hotch ft. Gracia

Word Count: 2,206

Diana Reid was, during her worst days, incredibly suspicious of aeroplanes. She’d always insisted that her precious only son take the train, and he never minded. After all, trains are interesting and the scenery is nice. He’d read about airports, in books, and seen them in movies his friends made him watch, but every piece of media had left one thing out: the sounds.

He’d even been in an airport once before when he flew from Nevada to Virginia after his acceptance to the F.B.I. Academy, but he’d been with a friend then or rather one of his mother’s friends. An old colleague. He’d had business in Washington, so he’d offered to leave a week early to fly with Spencer. He’d done most of the talking, all of the navigating and let Spencer zone out with his noise-cancelling headphones (a graduation gift from when he’d received his first PhD) and a book.

But now, he’s on his own, even with a group of four other people.

The lights keep flickering. It makes Spencer wonder how no one has noticed. But of course, he knows why. He’s just sensitive.

‘And Agent Jareau said this is a small airport. If something like this bothers me, can I even do this job? Should I just go home now, before I make a fool of myself?’

Voices overlap like a grating cacophony. Couples arguing over tickets, parents fussing over and at whining teens, crying babies, toddlers and single young adults with game audio playing at inconsiderate volumes, static heavy P.A.s, and phone calls, all dip in and out. As soon as one sound quiets, another replaces it at what seems like twice the volume. Not to mention the jets just outside beyond the window. And yet, somehow he can still hear the buzzing of the lights.

And no one else seems to mind. 

He’d forgone his headphones, not wanting to risk missing an instruction from his new boss, Supervisory Special Agent Gideon. But now his head pounds and colours dance in his vision.

An announcement for boarding as they pass a gate makes him clap his hands over his ears, a reflex, but he puts them away before his colleagues notice.

‘I will not act like a baby.’

He wants to walk faster, to run, and get away from it all, but it would be rude to pass his boss, and he has no idea where they're going anyway. 

He’d heard Ms. Jareau complaining as they got into the car, that normally they’d be allowed to drive up to the apron, but couldn’t this time due to some reconstruction.

At last, after a walk that can’t have taken more than 10 minutes, but felt like a marathon, they reach the door to the private area of the apron.

It’s at the same time a reprieve and so much worse.

On one hand, there is less quantity of sounds, but on the other hand, the volume blinds Spencer for a moment and he rushes to catch up to his new colleagues.

-

The small jet is an oasis of quiet. Spencer can still hear the noise if he gets too close to a window, and the lights do buzz a bit, but it’s negligible compared to the monstrous collage inside the airport and out on the apron.

He sits down quickly, still feeling less than stable.

Hotch is talking to the rest of the team, but he hasn’t calmed down enough to clearly understand the words. So, as quietly as he can he starts reciting chemical formulas. They come into the forefront of his mind as easy as breathing, like the ABCs or Twinkle Little Star to most children, familiar and comforting. He focuses on the words one at a time until he stops shaking and the buzzing of the lights is less prominent. Eventually, he just lets the formulas run through his mind. It actually helps him focus on SSA Gideon’s voice.

He doesn't realise he closed his eyes until he looks up to the curious, slightly sceptical gaze of his new colleague, Agent Morgan.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I was listing, I just-”

“Anxious about flying?” Agent Morgan says, confident.

Wrong.

“No, not at all. The odds of dying in a plane crash are only one in 11 million. Fractional compared to the odds of being in a car crash, which is approximately one in 5,000. This is probably because between the two industries, safety standards-”

“Right, didn’t mean to assume.” Morgan looks back to SSA Gideon. He looks awed and a bit freaked out like Spencer is some . . . creature.

Reid looks down, “Sorry for interrupting, please continue.”

—

The briefing is done, and they’ve each been given tasks. Agency Morgan with SSA Hotchner, and Spencer with SSA Gideon.

Spencer reads dutifully over his case file, studying the area map.

A voice, the slightest break in the quiet makes him look up. Agent Morgan is whispering to Agent Jareau, and they’re glancing at Spencer.

“Seems like new boy’s got a mean streak.”

Spencer almost looks up at that. ‘Mean streak? What are they- oh- But I wasn’t being . . . Oh. This is going to be like high school all over again, isn’t it?’ He droops at the thoughts, trying to put it out of his mind and focus on the lines of the map.

Agent Jareau is silent, Spencer pretends he can’t feel her judgmental gaze. Then she says, “Yeah, real life of the party, that one.”

Party-pooper. Buzzkill. Baby. Dork. Nerd. Loser. The insults bounce around his mind like the kickballs that always seemed to fly his way on field days.

‘Not insults, just facts.’

“He might be a kid genius, but none of this will work if he can’t be a team player.”

“If he wants to be a loner, I guess it doesn’t matter as long as he can do the job. Hotch never comes drinking with us, after all.”

‘Don’t they understand that’s all I’ve ever wanted, to be on a team with someone! That’s why I came here. I knew it, though, I knew I wouldn’t belong here.’

“Yeah, but he has Jack and the missus.”

Agent Jareau sighs, “Gideon has faith in him, so we should too, right? He’ll get used to flying soon enough.”

These words make the previous ones sting a bit less, but the respite is over quickly.

“Maybe then he won’t feel the need to be such a little prick. This team doesn’t need a moody teenager. He can’t even shoot.”

He catches Agent Morgan’s gaze for an instant, but can’t stand to look, so he ducks back down, hoping the older man didn’t notice.

—

“Attention, everyone.” The intercom startles Spencer out of his map-reading daze.

“We’ve run into some inclement weather, so I’ll be taking us up a bit higher, just to get over these storm clouds.” 

As soon as he ends his sentence the ascension begins. 

The pain stops Spencer’s thoughts in their tracks, it’s sudden and sharp, quickly surrounding his head and ears. A whine slips out of him before he presses his lips together.

He’d expected this. ear barotrauma, it’s called, the so-called “popping” feeling in the eardrum due to sudden dramatic changes in barometric pressure. It can also occur on the ground when climbing mountains or even for some people before big storms. He even brought chewing gum for this very purpose, but he can’t even think of moving now, lest the pain get worse.

‘It’ll go away, it’ll go away. I’ll be fine. I will be fine.’ 

10 minutes later he is not fine. His head feels full like he’d just been shoved in a too-small locker again and hit his head on the door, or shoved down the stairs, or more accurately, like he’s about to spontaneously combust.

He feels stupid and useless.

‘My chewing gum is right there, I just need to’

His thoughts are interrupted by his case file sliding off his lap, spilling papers everywhere. Agent Morgan looks up at the noise, frowning. 

‘All this would be fixed if I could just- Should I ask someone? No, I’d look like a kid. (I am a kid.) SSA Gideon and SSA Hotchner will never take me seriously after this. And I’ve already pissed off Agent Morgan and Agent Jareau.’

Spencer gives what he hopes is a friendly smile, through the pain. It’s kind of hard, remembering the man’s words from earlier. “Little prick.” “Moody teenager.”

‘Why bother when he clearly doesn’t want me here?’

Before he realises it, he’s rocking slightly back and forth. It’s barely noticeable, but SSA Hotchner notices. He’s been watching Spencer for a few minutes now. As an ex-prosecutor, he can tell when people are squirming. 

This isn’t that, not quite anyway, but ‘The poor boy certainly looks uncomfortable. He didn’t seem defensive when Morgan questioned him about flight anxiety earlier, and I’ve talked to him before during his interviews. That truly is just his nature, but something is going on. He’s an adult, but just barely. I’ll be tactful. He’s shy, I wonder if he’ll even tell me. I only hope it’s not anything serious. If it is, somehow I think I’ll have quite a time trying to get the truth out of him.’

“Reid, are you alright?” He shifts into the seat across from Spencer, tone calm, but concerned. It’s the first time he’s seen the man look anything besides stern. He didn’t think he could.

“I . . .”

It’s the first time he’s really talked to SSA Hotchner about anything not relating to work, but at least he’s not frowning.

“You look a bit stressed. We need your head in the game, so if something is bothering you, get it out now, or find a way to deal with it before we land. The things you’re going to see here are, well there's no kind way to say it, gruesome, terrible, and cruel. And if you aren’t in the right headspace in your personal life, then this job won’t end well.”

“No.” The word is a whine.

SSA Hotcner’s expression shifts into a scary calm, ready to deal with the worst. “Are you hurt? Ill?”

Spencer gestures to his ear. 

Agent Hotchner nods and steps away, dialling someone on his mobile.

Spencer tries his best to listen through his aching ears.

“ . . . Good, you can send that to Morgan and Gideon. We’ll get on it right away. However, I have another concern. How does one treat aeroplane ear-aches? . . . No, not me, Reid. I think this may be his first time flying, and Gideon,” Hotch pauses, glancing at Spencer, who pretends not to be paying attention. “Briefed me that he has certain sensitivities . . . alright, yes that would make sense. I don’t have any, but I’ll ask. Thank you, Garcia.”

SSA Hotchner hangs up the phone, calling out to the rest of the cabin, “Does anyone have chewing gum?”

Three confused “No”s fill the cabin.

“I-I do,” Spencer manages.

SSA Hotchner turns back toward Spencer, “You do?”

Spencer nods and points to his bag. “Front pocket.”

“Okay, well Garcia says chewing it should release the pressure.” 

Spencer nods again, mouthing “I know.” 

It takes Agent Hotchner a few long seconds to understand, “Well, then why didn’t you- Ah, I see. Do you need me to get it?”

Spencer nods again, moving his bag into the aisle with his foot. SSA Hotchner unzips it, rifling through the front pocket. He finds the pack of mint gum quickly and hands it to Spencer.

Spencer takes it gratefully, fumbling with the wrapper in his haste.

—

“Thank you, Agent Hotchner.” Spencer tells the man sincerely when the pain has finally passed.”

“You are a part of this team, Reid. Just ���Hotch” is fine. But next time do try to be better prepared.”

“Yes, of course, Ag- Hotch.”

“If it's any consolation, we’ll be flying a lot-”

“After this, that’s not much of a consolation.” 

SSA Hotchner looks at Spencer in surprise. Spencer freezes. 

‘I shouldn’t have said that. My jokes always land wrong. What was I thinking? I’m going to be fired now.’ He can practically hear Morgan’s wince.

“Nice going, kid,” he mutters.

Spencer looks down in shame, “I’m sorry, that- that was a joke, Agent Hotchner. I have problems with tone sometimes and I didn’t mean to”

After a second, the man cracks a small smile. He halts Spencer’s apology with a shake of the head, “Fair enough. But I was going to say that due to the frequency of air travel that accompanies this job, I’m sure your body will adapt quickly.”

“Yes, sir.”

Agent Hotchner looks at him with an expression that uncannily resembles his mother’s when he’d do something right after she told him not to.

“Yes, Hotch.”

With that, A- Hotch suits back in his seat as if nothing ever happened. But everyone notices that he looks relieved.

‘If Hotch approves, maybe there’s something I’m missing.’ Morgan thinks, ‘Maybe I should give this kid a chance. And he did make it all the way here.’‘That wasn’t . . . terrible. Maybe everything will work out after all.’ Spencer takes a deep breath, focusing on the flavour of the gum as he gets back to work.

[khoistop100]

# 8 Deja Entendu - Brand New

Emo is a phase that I’ve never grown out of and probably never will. Of course, there’s no way of knowing for sure what the futures hold but it’s hard for me to imagine growing out of the days where I sit in my parked car, turn the volume all the way up, and tear up while I drown in one of the seven albums listed in the emo section of my 100 album list.

Out of all the albums and bands listed in that category, Brand New is the only band with multiple albums that I listen to regularly and there’s good reason for that: they make really good music. And not only is the music great, every Brand New album has its own distinct sound. Their debut album, Your Favorite Weapon, has this magnetic, pop punk energy that screams teen angst. It’s the only one of the three Brand New albums I adore that didn’t make it onto my Top 100 so I want to give it some love here. It has the best closing track of all of Brand New’s excellent closing tracks, Soco Amaretto Lime, which is also one of my two favorite Brand New songs and one of my top, say, fifty closers on any album. On top of that, Your Favorite Weapon is filled to the brim with loud and angry charisma, with almost every song bringing the same pissed off, punchy energy (the best example, 70x7, one of my favorite stories in music and a really amazing song). Yet, it’s that same kind of repetitive energy that wound up making me leave the album off the list, there’s just not enough variety. Each song is either at 100 or zero, and while those 100’s manage to get your blood pumping and those zeros really stop time, the lack of middle ground really throws off the albums flow when listening to it all the way through.

Which leads us to Deja Entendu: Brand New’s forgotten child. It starts off with my least favorite Brand New opener but, from there, it’s almost all aces. There are the subtler, bouncy tracks like Sic Transit Gloria…Glory Fades, Okay I Believe You but My Tommy Gun Don’t, and Jaws Theme Swimming that stay low to the ground but can turn it up when they need to. Sic Transit Gloria is especially sticky, with its sweaty bass and a vocal performance that feels like it’s right behind your ear and lyrics that are, well, sticky. Also, this is the first chronological entry in the Brand New cannon of the Scream. While Your Favorite Weapon had more than its fair share of bombastic moments, the vocals always peaked at a yell or shout. It’s here on Sic Transit Gloria’s chorus that the signature scream that would go on to become synonymous with the band in my mind first appears. “DIE YOUNG AND SAVE YOURSELVES”. Then there are the smoother, tradition rock songs like I Will Play My Game Beneath The Spin Light, The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows, and Good To Know That If I Ever Need Attention All I Have To Do Is Die (wow I never realized how long and obnoxious some of these titles are). These songs have the album’s best moments. I Will Play My Game features some great emo lines in “If looks could really kill/ then my profession would be staring,” and “I won’t be home this spring/ I would kill for the Atlantic but I’m paid to make girls panic while I sing.” These lines really capture the vague yet specific nature emo lines need to have, they need to be specific enough to conjure an image of pain or frustration but general enough that anyone listening can project themselves into the image. Quiet Things has this great hollow intro and Good To Know serves as a satisfying penultimate song, with verses that creep and build up to these cathartic choruses and a loud, beautifully layered outro that perfectly leads to the gentle, churning closer, Play Crack the Sky (Brand New’s second best closer, though, arguably their best. At the end of the day, I just relate more to the burnouts in Soco Amaretto than the nautical vibes of Play Crack the Sky). Play Crack the Sky also features one of my favorite post album outros; after the last notes fade, you hear the sounds of a guitar being put down and the singer walking away singing what I believe to be the post album diddy at the end of A Day In The Life by The Beatles. It’s comparable to the sounds at the end of Two Headed Boy pt. 2 that wrap up In The Areoplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel (which I am lowkey terrified of reviewing). Finally, there are the two acoustic songs on the album. Me vs. Maradona vs. Elvis is this creepy, haunting ballad that juxtaposes Sic Transit Gloria really well. Then There’s The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot, my favorite Brand New song. It’s arguably the simplest song on the album and I think that’s part of the appeal. Every other song on Deja Entendu has the peaks and troughs, as if the band was dead set on making sure the album wasn’t as one note as their previous work. Then there’s The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot. It’s really just guitar, drums, and vocals, as bare bones a song as the album has. Aside from the simplicity, the lyrics are really the selling point of the song. The refrain of “If it makes you less sad” speaks to the willingness of people with their own problems to push their troubles aside to try and tackle someone else’s. Every time the singer offers another solution it just feels like he’s searching for a way to make things better and you come to understand more at the chorus. The chorus just hits my emo funny bone, reading, “Call me a safe bet/ I’m betting I’m not/ Hope that you can forgive/ only hoping as time goes, you can forget.” I’ve a lot of internalized guilt through my life, baggage from plenty of ruined friendships (admittedly most of them my fault). In fact, until recently, I’ve never had a “best friend” for more than a year and with the death of every friendship, I’d find my way back to this song. The song swells at the end, with this confusing mess of hurt and affection spilling out,

“You are calm and reposed

Let your beauty unfold

Pale white like the skin stretched over your bones

Spring keeps you ever close

You are second hand smoke

You are so fragile and thin, standing trial for your sins

Holding onto yourself the best you can

You are the smell before rain

You are the blood in my veins”

before reading out the chorus a final time. There just aren’t words for how much the song means to me. There are, however, plenty of reasons to listen to Deja Entendu, my favorite Brand New album, and I hope enough are listed here to get you to give it a try.