Thursday 1 May 2014

Row 25 Seat C


The plane was full, not a spare seat to be had, Greg had waited patiently at the gate while the hoards rushed to get on as if there wouldn't be enough seats to go around. Finally he's stood up and boarded the plane, not quite last, but not far from it. Row25 seat C, close to the back. He walked up the aisle smiling at the passengers who were waiting for him. They'd already been on the plane a good 13 minutes and were getting impatient. Greg didn't care a jot. He meandered down the aisle. But as he counted the rows he realised someone else was sitting in his seat and it was no goldilocks. In fact it was more like goldilocks grandmother; a youngish woman occupied 25 A then there was a space and then the old lady occupying 25C. 
Um, you're in my seat,' Greg said politely, noting the middle seat was not in fact empty but had a suitcase the size of a small country resting on it. How on earth had she conned her way on with that Greg thought. 
The woman looked at him not a trace of comprehension on her face. You'd think she could work it out from context, Greg mused. 
He showed her the boarding card and signalled at the seat number but still the woman looked confused. Greg rolled his eyes and tried again. 
The woman still didn't move a muscle, but she understood all right, she knew exactly what was going on but was trying to pull a fast one. What did she think that Greg would say,  no bother, I'll find somewhere else to sit and if there is nowhere I'll stand. Greg stood and waited, half enjoying the impasse, half annoyed at the old woman’s stupidity. The woman looked to be enjoying it too. The other passengers shot accusing glances at Greg like he was the one in the wrong, like he was bullying an old woman. A man in the row behind barked something none too friendly at him that Greg was pleased he didn't understand. Eventually, after intervention from the cabin crew, the woman reluctantly moved. Greg offered to help her put the bag up in the overhead lockers but the woman just sneered at him, churlishly preferring to have the stupidly sized case on her lap than accept help from the infidel. 5 minutes after boarding Greg eventually sat down, squeezed into the seat with the shadow of Mount Suitcase over him. The woman grumbled under her breath, the man behind offered words of sympathy. Greg knew he had done nothing wrong, it was the woman who didn't understand the rules of flying, but for some reason he still felt guilty.

2 comments:

  1. ...and she might have been his fairy godmother.... but he didn't recognize her:)

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  2. so you couldn't choose 23C seat? :-)

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