First Up Against The Wall

So I'm stretched out in my comfy seat on the O'Hare-LaGuardia leg of the trip back from Tulsa, one row back from the door. People are still filtering into the 757. My bag's comfortably stowed in the overhead compartment and the book du jour is stashed in the seat pocket.

A nearly anorexic blonde (more accurately, a brunette with her hair streaked blond, a bit like J.Lo) plops down in the seat diagonally in front of me. She looks around for a place to stow her enormously oversized handbags, apparently confused by the lack of a seat in front of her.

She turns and espies the empty space under the seat in front of me ("please stow all your carry-ons under the seat in front of you or in an overhead compartment") and gets up and approaches, her weapons-grade engagement ring nearly blinding me.

"Are you going to use that space?"

"Well, I was going to put my feet there..."

Apparently dissatisfied by my lack of obsequience, she storms off down the aisle, looking for an overhead bin empty enough to suit her purpose.

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This page contains a single entry by Paul published on May 6, 2003 11:33 AM.

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