My short flight

The last row. Two seats. I’m in the aisle. The girl who would be in the window seat came toward me with a cheeseburger and fries and a very expensive handbag. The flight attendant excitedly greeted her and in the process gave me a mean look and said my bag could not go under my seat. I obliged. It’s a short flight on a tiny plane. During the security demonstration, my seatmate put in her ear buds and sang loudly. She interrupted herself to take a phone call during which she warned the person on the other end not to be late. “I don’t wait.” Then she took a long swig of Mountain Dew and let out a burp. She placed he half eaten cheeseburger and fries on the ground and as she settled back to close her eyes, she draped her jean jacket over herself (the back had a patch that read where is my mind) hitting me with the heavy brass buttons. It’s a short flight so I tried to be patient. She burped again and lengthened her long slim leg, pushing the cheeseburger and fries under my seat (to be fair there was room since I wasn’t allowed to put my bag there).

The flight attendant came with water, and as she approached the last row she looked beyond me and stared at my sleeping neighbor with a look typical of a mother for a sleeping infant. Precious, adoring. She turned to me and as she poured me a shallow glass of water, and bent down to whisper in my ear: Do you realize you are sitting next to a very famous model? I mouthed a feigned astonishment, hoping for more water. But she stopped pouring. I wanted to shout:

No, I didn’t know! And if she’s so famous why is she flying in the last seat of coach? And by the way, she’s rude! And she didn’t listen to your safety presentation!

But it’s a short flight. So I did my best to make sure I didn’t step in her cheeseburger and enjoyed the brief calm. She was going to be very upset when she awoke and realized that we were in the last row and would have to wait.