Wednesday, Mar. 05, 2003 - 5:17 p.m.

JFK to LAX

Part One:

2:55 p.m. I admit I didn�t realize the extent of my good fortune when she first sat down next to me in vacant seat 8J on my American Airlines return flight to LAX. As she showed no regard whatsoever for my legs my feet my stowed bags or me I didn�t suspected anything and was thus unprepared for my newest lesson in life.

3:00 p.m. Just as 8J readied herself for departure by arranging her Vanity Fair and Town & Country magazines, Fiji Water bottles, Sony Disc-Man complete with Louis Vuitton leather CD carrying case, Gucci sunglasses, Burberry hat and a menage of other essentials the Flight Attendant stopped by our humble aisle offering water or orange juice. 8J greeted her with a delightful grimace and queried, "What, no champagne?"

3:01 p.m. 8J scans the Business Class compartment wondering what�s taking so long with the champagne.

3:02 p.m. 8J, clearly unaccustomed to waiting, frantically looks for the Flight Attendant.

3:03 p.m. 8J sits on her knees in hopes of catching a glimpse of our assigned Flight Attendant with her ordered champagne.

3:04 p.m. 8J rings the Flight Attendant service button. In fact over the next 5 1/2 hours that bell was rung so frequently that I was convinced that someone somewhere on the plane was answering questions correctly.

3:05 p.m. As the FA (Flight Attendant) delivered the champagne with a smile and a polite, "Here you go, ma�am" 8J ever so boldly snatched it from her hand and within moments had fetched a bag of popcorn from her Prada carry-all and began swigging from the fluted glass. My na�ve jesting, "Popcorn and champagne? You�re gonna get sick." was met by a large intake of air followed by a faint whistling through the nose as 8J exhaled.

3:10 p.m. I find myself worrying for 8J�s heath and consider offering unsolicited amateur medical advice. It seems prior to take-off every request (i.e. return your seat to it�s upright position, fasten your seat belt, retract your leg rest, turn off your cell phone) led to the same large intake of air followed by the same faint whistling through the nose as 8J exhaled.

3:15 p.m. As we reached unknown speeds and began our ascent into the sky I had to smile. 8J looked so cute and perky for a 45 year old women with her damaged over processed hair with the ends either broken or split and her over exaggerated bosoms firmly compacted into an under exaggerated ecru bra barley covered by a Fred Segal-mutilated Harley-Davidson T-shirt. She was such an innocent as she kicked the seatback in front of her with what looked like a brand new pair of black Prada comfy shoes easily exposed by her, I�m sure, accidentally shrunken Abercrombie & Finch capri pants.

�To be continued

�

previous - next