The convicts are jammed inside. Sardines in the can. Without the smell. At least for now. Long and narrow walls. Each person is supposed to have their own seat. The rules say that. Save the obese ones, sitting next to the petite ones like me. Two inches are stolen from my seat. The heat from her size stifles the little space I have. The circulated cabin air must be on. It is worse than hot flashes. Sniffles are abundant now. I was tired. Now I am miserable. At least she isn't trying to remove her clothing on the plane. I am grateful for small things today on the US Airways Flight. How could people not care about others?
The flight attendant is not slender, either. She patrols the aisles looking for infractions. My arms have no where to go. She keeps bumping me - the flight attendant, that is. We already settled that my fellow passenger is sharing my seat even though she does not have my permission to do so. That is tantamount to theft. Theft of a seat. I did pay the bill.
The woman next to me is a good three hundred pounds. I want the arm seat between us down. Her girth won't allow it. Don't I have rights?
Even my tiny view of the window is obscured by her enormity. I want to move my legs but can't. Standing up, the flight attendant points to the sign telling us the bathroom is occupied.
"You've have to wait until the occupy lights go out. One person at a time."
I am more than sentenced to the chair. But I paid for this flight petite or not.
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