madermouse's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 8/29/01 The plane was hot, stifling, despite the brisk temperatures outside. I quickly assessed the seating arrangements, and found that my hubby & me would sit 2 seats out of 3 on the left side of the plane. We stood in line as a moron tried to stuff a case the size of an elephant into the overhead compartment. He was a little man, red-faced and obviously troubled by the difficulty he was having. I watched him struggle - round peg - square hole....hmmm... I thought, �catch a clue, buddy...there�s no way that case is fitting in there.� And just about when I was going to give the little man a leg-up into the overhead compartment himself, the flight attendant shouted down from first class. �Sorry sir! That�s too large to fit up there! It must be stowed under your seat!�she said. He looked defeated, pulled case to his chest, and sat down...almost pouting. The line lurched forward, then stopped again. I looked around, examining the cabin. The decor was a blast from the past, man, and totally hideous. This isn�t usually something I�d notice on an airplane, but the orange, rust & chartreuse fabric covering not only the seats, but the walls of the cabin made my stomach lurch. God, where were the fashion police when I needed them? This whole airplane needed a face-lift - and BAD. I leaned closer to the wall and realized that it was the original fabric, as it had worn threadbare in spots where many a passenger�s head had been during flight. The line lurched forward again, and we approached our seats. There was a big, burly man sitting in the window seat. I had requested the window seat. I approached him, and said, �Excuse me sir, but I have the window seat - it says so right on my ticket.� He growled, glancing half-heartedly at my ticket, and began to move. The people behind me sighed heavily, irritated at the inevitable delay in boarding. I felt a slight push from behind. I chose to ignore it. The burly man growled again when I stowed my luggage over head, and pushed my way past him to the window seat. My husband followed, and mister burly closed us in by sitting on the end. I suddenly felt very trapped, but tried to ignore it. Hubby sat down, buckled his seat belt, and motioned for me to hurry up and do the same. We were in the next to last seat on the plane, and nearly the last to board. The mood was anxious, and you could feel the energy from the other passengers. The flight attendant began securing the hatches on the overhead compartments and doing a visual seat belt check. They started at first class, and began to work their way back. I found my seat belt, connected my seatbelt extender (yes I brought my own!! I stole it years ago from Delta after I vowed to never embarrass myself by asking for one again) and positioned myself over the chair. My legs bent to sit down, and then it happened. My heart literally skipped a beat, because my hips were hitting the arm rests instead of the seat in between. My ass was too fucking big! I turned around, looking for the button to raise the armrest. I pressed it, trying to force the armrest up, but nothing happened. Hubby saw what I was doing and curled his arm around the armrest, trying to loosen it. It was no use....it was stuck. I was totally panicked at that moment. My stomach ached, my head pounded. Fuck(&@$*!!! Hubby�s eyes met mine, and he realized what was going on. My ass was too big to sit in the seat, and we�d have to switch places. We switched places, apologizing to mister burly (now mister grumpy & burly). I went to raise the armrest I felt like I was going to faint. The flight attendants were nearly back here, and every single person on the plane was seated and ready to fly but me. First Class passengers were getting a lesson in safety while I sat hunched over the seat, desperately trying to raise the arm. I looked on the side of the arm, and saw a smooth metal line running from the frame to the armrest. The armrest was WELDED down, as well as the other one between my hubby & me. This whole row was a fucking DEFECT! This goddamned armrest was fucking WELDED to the fucking frame!!! And my ASS is too big to fucking SIT DOWN!! I feel sweat trickle into my eye. Mister grumpy/burly gives me the dirtiest look I think I�ve ever seen. A lump in my throat forms, and I think I�m going to puke. The flight attendant reaches me, despite my efforts to freeze time. �Ma�m you�ll need to take your seat immediately please. We�ve gotten runway clearance.� she smiles sweetly at me....obviously not realizing that I would sit down if I COULD!!! �I..I can�t sit down�. I say. �I�m sorry, miss. Did you say something to me?� she asks. Yes I said something. Thanks for listening. Now I�ll have to repeat it so that every person sitting in front of, behind, and beside me can hear it too. �I said, I can�t sit down. The armrests are welded down, and I have to have the armrests up.� I try to speak softly, but it doesn�t matter. The cabin of the plane is like your bathroom - very close. The attention of the other passenger�s begin to cause a wave of whispering, heads turn. I swallow puke. �Oh.� she replies, dumfounded. And then she just stands there, looking at me, totally clueless as how to help me. This moment drags on and on, and if there has ever been such a humiliating moment in my life - I don�t quite recall it. All I know is that I feel tears coming on, and anger. Shitloads of anger that I�m having to deal with this. I�m about two seconds from just running off the plane when my hubby pipes up. �Can we please trade seats with someone who�s armrest raises? Does that sound like a problem?� his voice is direct, almost cutting. His face is red. He is angry too. I have to stand there and watch, while flight attendant explains to passengers #87 & #88 my situation. �You see, that lady over there is too fat to sit in the seat without her armrests up. That BIG FAT STUPID LARD-ASS LADY�S BUTT is too IMMENSE to fit in the seats. YES, the SAME SEATS that EVERY OTHER passenger is sitting in just FINE...The armrests are broken on those seats over there. Would you be willing to move for this PAIN IN THE ASS LADY?� okay, she probably didn�t put it like that, but it felt like it. I watched passenger #87 & #88 move their head to look at me. Their faces are filled with repulsion, with disgust. But they, thankfully, move. Mister grumpy/burly has to move yet again and said something under his breath.... I didn�t catch it. I don�t care what he says. I move into the new seats and easily pull up the armrest and sit down. Passenger #87 holds up the seatbelt extender and calls out, �Is this yours?� shaking it at me. My hubby takes it - well, rips it - from his hands. I buckle it. The tears begin to fall as we approach the runway, and they don�t stop until we hit 3,000 feet. My hubby puts his arm around me. He really has no choice, because I�m taking up about 1/3 of his seat too and he has nowhere to put his arm. But he tries to comfort me. He�s knows that I�m devastated. I can�t turn my head around, I can�t face the stares from the other passengers. I can�t even face the kind eyes of my loving husband. I hate myself. I look out at the evening sky, where the moonlight is illuminating fluffy clouds. I catch an outline of my reflection against the glass....and I see the saddest person. I see the shell of a woman, who�s soul has been scooped out and discarded like the seeds of a squash. I feel sorry for her. I vow at that moment to never take a flight home to Wyoming ever again. I do love my parents. But I know that I�ll only be bigger the next time, and I just can�t face this again. I just can�t make myself. I close my eyes and try to picture explaining this to my mother....how I can never fly home again for the holidays. It hurts when I think of her disappointment. Today, 2 years later, I re-live this story as I tell it. My face is burning still, and my eyes are filled with hot tears. I can feel the pain of this like it just happened. Its amazing how these things stay with you. Sometimes my mind remembers this incident, but I usually push it right away. I haven�t been home in two years, keeping with my vow to never fly again. But I miss my family. I miss feeling the cold Wyoming air, I miss snowflakes, I miss the smell of my mother�s house, I miss her little dog Sophie. I miss Christmas with my aunts and cousins and uncles. I miss my brother. I miss driving through my home town and noticing all the changes. I miss running into old friends, and school teachers who tell me they still read my poetry to their class, 11 years later... I make the decision to come home. I break my vow. I bought the ticket today. I�m flying alone. I�m scared to death. I�m not that different from two years ago. I don�t know how it will be. I�ve got to stop running though, I do know that much. I don�t want to be afraid forever. 12:47 p.m. - 8/29/01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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