Test of New Software from Word

Back from Atlanta, which was a nice break, climate-wise, from frosty New England?  The trip was not as stressful as I had anticipated, and by going there, I confirmed I had done the right thing, which was to conduct a bit of family business not germane to this blog.

  I am pretty organized when I travel, with itineraries, addresses, phone numbers, maps, packing lists, water, a small snack, luggage tags, a hostess present, all of the small but necessary things to ease the way on the road and at the destination. On the way down, I was squeezed into the middle seat of a full plane, not much fun, and I was glad to see an aisle seat on the way home.  The flight was about an hour late departing, and I boarded with my zone number. Usually I am a nice person, accommodating and even gracious, going out of my way to do a good deed.  But sometimes I am still the selfish only child, and one of these times occurred on the plane home.

A woman came down the aisle, stopped and pointed at the middle seat.  I stood and let her in.  She was fifty pounds overweight and had a bare midriff which bulged fore and aft out of her tight top.  Wild thick auburn hair.     She was hobbling, with an elastic bandage wrapped foot.  Besides a handbag, she was schlepping a soft drink container, and a carton of smelly fast food.  Greasy chicken from the smell of it. And a big brown (fake) fur coat.  In Boston in winter, with a bare midriff and sandals, you need all the fur you can get.   I offered to put her coat in the overhead bin, which she let me do.  This accomplished, she asked to trade seats.  I said no.  No thoughts, just an instinctive no. Actually, I didn’t want to sit within ten rows of this woman.   Well, you would have thought I had murdered her children and left her in a snow bank to freeze.  Loud voice expressing what an ungracious, thoughtless inhuman beast I was. She kept repeating that no one lives forever.  I wasn’t sure if that meant me, her, the planeload of people or what.  Resolve not to trade seats stiffened.  She got up to use the bathroom while the plane was still loading, telling me she would have to go a lot and I would always have to move.  “No problem,” I said, resolve now steely.  Flight attendant came by and I asked if it was possible to change seats.  Not possible, due to 100% full flight.  Woman returned and complained to the attendant that I would not trade seats.  Attendant said this would not help because her foot would still not be able to rest in the aisle.  Big brouhaha until attendant finally found someone a few rows down in the aisle who would sit in the window while the girl setting in our row’s window seat graciously (unlike Grapeshot) took the center seat.  I jumped up and let the exchange take place.  I heard loud conversation with my nemesis’ new seatmates about my heartlessness.  Screw it.   People craning necks to see me, the monster.  Sat down again and opened my book. Sucked it up.  No explanations to new seat mate, the pretty young girl from the window seat.  I just said, “You are a saint.”  Rest of flight normal.  Chatted with girl who was coming back from 3 months in Columbia, Costa Rica and Panama.  Student from Canada.  Wonderful trip.  She had a tight connection and I actually swapped seats at the end of the flight so that she could dash for her plane.  Nice young man in the window seat en route to a job interview.  Wondered why crazy woman had not pre-boarded.  Wondered why she didn’t order wheelchair.  Wondered why anyone would go to Boston in January with a bare midriff.  Wondered if she ate the smelly chicken. Glad my life is not as chaotic as hers. We both have a story to tell now. I am still waiting for answers from agents.  I am retired.  Lots of do and miles to go.  Aloha.  Grapeshot