don't pass the cheese plate.
i'm on the way home - a red-eye fight from the west coast. it's not the right time in either place to be eating a cheese plate, but i am. stuck in an inappropriate time zone somewhere in the middle of both nights.
i couldn't get my chair to go back, the button wouldn't work - so, i started silently fuming. i debated how the issue could best be addressed. the flight attendant won't care. i could write a letter. i started writing a letter. i stopped. i rammed myself into the seat a few times, halfway to see if it would work, also to have a small fit.
a woman across the aisle saw me struggling, and she sidled over in her tiny black knit dress, firmly planted both feet, reached over to depress the button on the armrest, the other above my head, and laid me back with a quickness. as i flew back, she also instructed me on how to fold the headrest bits in so i could sleep with my incapably small-brained head supported. i nodded. i know. i get that. and i can see your spanx because you're lording over me with not-so-secret cabin knowledge. sit down.
so i'm reclined. i ate all the cheese. my movies won't work so i just have headphones on basically to drain the batteries. all of this felt essential to share with you, right now. have a great monday.
2 comments
Thanks for sharing your cheese story, if not the cheese.
ReplyDeleteSmall nuggets of wisdom. :)
ReplyDelete