Part 4

Single file line down the center of the airplane. Everyone is cautiously trying to get to their seats. Bags need to go in the overhead compartment. Smaller bags go underneath the seat in front of you. Passing first and business class and their roomy seats. Passing the stairs and the curtains that separates a $500, $2,000, and $7,000 ticket. From six seats in a row to ten.

Every so often, the slow moving line of passengers comes to a standstill as one finds his seat and tries with a gruff grunt to get his oversized carry-on into the overhead compartment. But the bag is too big for even him to swiftly stow away. Heads poke out from the line behind him as he tries to juggle his laptop bag while putting up his luggage.

More grumblings from the line. Eyes watch as he struggles with his bag. A baby cries four rows down as her mother is also trying to put away her carry-ons. Finally, the person behind the man gives him a hand and they successfully stow the carry-on. Appreciations are exchanged. And the line begins to move again.

The crowded cabin of the economy class. Ten seats in a row, divided up into three by four by three. Everyone is struggling to get to their seats. White lines form and quickly disappear as children press their faces against the tiny round windows carefully watching the ground crew load up the mounds luggage. Too tired from travels already, the mother takes a deep breath, closes her eyes and allows her child to stand on the seat and stare.

And a tiny woman who has already tuned out the others aboard the plane with her begins to imagine what waits ahead of her as she leaves her beloved home.

Only, she is quickly brought back to the moment with the sudden gust of air and the appearance of a man too large for his seat right next to her.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” he says after shifting his weight around to get the seatbelt completely loosened and barely fitting around his robust figure.

The sudden invasion of space forces an awkward smile onto her face. Turning to the window she thinks, seven hours… seven hours… seven hours.

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