A wealthy man is irritated to find himself sitting next to an overweight woman in first-class and starts complaining to the flight attendant.
Michael Harrington knew it was going to be a rough flight the moment he saw the woman who would be sitting next to him. She was HUGE! How was he supposed to travel comfortably with her right beside him?
The woman sat down, and as she fastened her seat belt, her elbow nudged Michael. “Watch it!” Michael snapped at her, and she turned to face him.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said softly, “Please forgive me…”
“Forgive you?” Michael mocked. “Or forgive the 3,000 cupcakes you ate to get that size?”
The woman gasped in shock, and Michael noticed she was quite young, with a gentle face, a vulnerable face. It spurred him to sneer, “Lady, when you travel, you need to book TWO seats!”
Tears welled in the woman’s eyes, but Michael was on a roll, especially when he saw her clothes were cheap and outdated, her shoes well-worn.
He said, “I bet your whole budget goes to tacos and burgers, huh? Can’t afford two seats? Next time, pass a cup around—I’m sure your fellow passengers will be generous!”
The woman turned her face to the window, and in the reflection, Michael saw tears streaming down her cheeks. “Listen,” he said, “I know a guy who runs a clinic in Mexico. I bet he’d give you a liposuction deal, super cheap!”
Sobs shook the young woman’s shoulders by the time Michael felt satisfied for the discomfort of being squeezed next to her soft bulk. So when the attendant came by with the drinks cart, he ordered a Martini.
Everyone deserves to be treated with respect and dignity.
“Shaken, not stirred!” he told the attractive flight attendant in his best James Bond impression, adding, “I don’t know what Moby Dick here will have…”
The attendant pursed her lips and shot him a disapproving look before addressing the woman. “Ma’am, would you like anything to drink?”
The woman nodded, wiping her eyes. “Yes, please, a diet soda.”
Michael scoffed. “Bit late for a diet soda, don’t you think?” Both the flight attendant and the woman ignored him, but Michael felt a small thrill knowing he’d rattled them both.
He leaned back, nibbling an olive and sipping his Martini while the woman sipped her diet soda. He shuddered at the thought that she’d eventually need to use the restroom and squeeze past him…
Soon after he finished his drink, the flight attendant brought dinner. She placed a neat tray in front of him and another for his seatmate.
“Are you sure that’s enough?” Michael asked the attendant. “I mean, it’d probably take a buffet to feed this lady!”
The flight attendant ignored him and continued serving the other first-class passengers. “Pretty rude of her, right?” Michael said to the woman next to him. “I might just complain about her.”
But his seatmate ignored him too, so Michael dug into the excellent meal. He was savoring the last of his wine when the flight attendant returned, all smiles.
“Excuse me,” she said, “The captain’s a huge fan, and he’d love to invite you to the cockpit?”
Michael was startled, then realized the attendant was speaking to the woman next to him, who was blushing, smiling, and nodding. This meant Michael had to stand to let her pass.
The attendant led the woman away, and Michael sat back down. He began mentally drafting scathing emails to the airline’s management about the service and conditions in first class.
He was crafting some choice complaints when the captain’s voice came over the speakers: “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a celebrity among us! If you’re a fan of ‘Opera Stars’ like me, you’ll recognize that voice!”
A beautiful voice filled the cabin, singing a few bars of a famous aria, and the passengers erupted in applause, buzzing with excitement. “That’s right!” the captain said. “It’s the wonderful Miss Emily Carter, and she’s flying with us for a charity concert to fight world hunger!”
The entire plane clapped, and Michael shrank in his seat. Then the flight attendant approached. “Listen, pal,” she said in a cold, sharp tone. “I don’t care how much money you have—if you upset that woman again, you’re moving to economy.”
Michael opened his mouth to protest but caught the glint in the attendant’s eye. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
“It’s not me you owe an apology to!” she replied.
Later, the woman, Emily Carter, returned, smiling and signing autographs for other passengers. Michael stood quickly to let her sit.
“Look,” he said with his most charming smile, “I’m sorry if I was a bit harsh. I didn’t know who you were!”
Emily turned to him, and Michael saw she had the most striking eyes. “It doesn’t matter who I am. You shouldn’t treat people like that, ever! And besides, you’re not sorry. Would you even apologize if I wasn’t somewhat famous? I can’t help my weight, but you can change your attitude. Stop judging people.”
Michael closed his mouth, sank back into his seat, and stayed silent until they landed in Seattle.
