My flight last week from Denver via Omaha & Chicago was uneventful. Until I landed in O’Hare and found out my last flight was changed to Terminal Z. Yeah, ten minutes to go from Terminal B to Terminal Z – the commuter plane terminal. What is it with O’Hare? Do they think everyone from Buffalo can run thru airports like O.J. Simpson?
Ok, so a quick scan of the gates: Akron-no, Peoria-nah, Scranton-nope, Buffalo – yeah! 7 people waiting in the gate and they announce boarding starting with Zone 6! Luckily, I was in Zone 6, so I didn’t have to wait in that long line! Thru the door, down the stairs, out to the tarmac to the smallest plane I’ve ever seen. I was looking for the 12 year old boy with the radio-controlled joystick that was going to fly the damn thing.
Ahh, aisle seat in row 1 – first class!!! 8 passengers, 12 seats, I might get some sleep. Yeah, right… isn’t it always that the last person to board is the largest? And by large, I’m talking Grandma’s sofa large. Of course she had the window seat next to me. The curvature of the plane pushed half of her over into my seat. Her face was smooshed against the window. She obviously was uncomfortable and asked the stewardess (that’s right, I wasn’t feeling too PC then) if she can switch seats to one of the empty rows. To which the up-tight bus monitor replies, “I’m sorry, but seating assignments are based on aircraft balance and cannot be changed.”
Boy, was this woman steamed! But it turns out she had a great sense of humor and had me laughing the whole trip. The stewardess had to sit in one of those fold-down seats two inches from our faces and my fellow passenger kept railing her – “Maybe for takeoff, I should stand in the back to help get the nose up?”, “And once we reach altitude, should I stand in the aisle and wave my arms to keep it level?”.
Needless, to say, we didn’t get extra cookies on that flight.
