The Airplane Story

I had totally forgotten that Northwest and Delta are now one airline that simply can't afford to re-paint their fleet yet. So when I got on my flight to Minneapolis--the first time I went up North--I was at a NW gate but had no idea the plane said "Delta" on the side. No big. Whatever.

My row was maybe 2/3 back. I had paid an extra $20 to have a more comfortable seat, because when I booked my ticket, all that was available were the emergency exit row seats and the ones in front of them which don't recline, and the roomier but more costly one(s) which I had booked.

The flight was progressing as normal. I was reading, the beverages were served and I had coffee, since it was still 0-dark:30 in the morning. I can tell you beyond a doubt that coffee is also what the woman behind me ordered.

I had taken my time drinking my coffee, as in 30-40 minutes at least to drink luke-warm stuff that I'm fairly sure was brewed by tying a string on a coffee bean and dipping it into my cup. Yes, it was a little on the weak side. The flight attendants had been up and back twice picking up garbage and my cup was long gone.

Then I did what everyone does at this point. I leaned my seat back.

From the sounds that emitted from behind me, you'd think I had pulled down my pants and shit in the woman's lap. First there was a splash, then a squak, then whining and yelping, then several beeps (the flight attendant button--did you know you can push it more than once?) and then…the bitching.

"Could I have a towel or rag or something? SHE leaned her seat back and SPILLED MY COFFEE ALL OVER.!"

In between her comments, she made many.pointed.exhales.of.EXASPERATION.

Then she stood directly next to me and told the person across the aisle from me that I had leaned my seat back and SPILLED HER COFFEE ALL OVER! I'm pretty sure she told the person in front of me, too. I'm not really sure, because I was trying to read my book, which was pretty good.

She finally sat down, but didn't shut up. She told the person across the aisle from her, which as you can imagine was totally unnecessary because I'm fairly sure they had actually witnessed the incident (when I had leaned my seat back and SPILLED HER COFFEE ALL OVER!) At this point, she was telling anyone who would pay attention, starting and stopping again every couple of minutes. A full half hour later, she finally remembered to thank the guy next to her for catching something or other.

That guy was the only person, aside from the flight attendant, who actually answered her. He said "You're welcome," and nothing else.

Once I finished my chapter and was wishing for the flight to end, I wondered what, exactly, did this woman think I, personally, had done wrong? How, exactly, was I to blame? Where the hell had her coffee cup been, that I was able to knock it over with my seat? Was I personally responsible for the tray table design for Delta airlines? Is there some rule out there that says I have to ask permission before leaning back? (Because, if there is, please tell me, and I'll pass that info along next time someone leans their seat back in front of me without warning, which would be, oh, EVERYONE who is ever going to sit in front of me on an airplane, ever. Maybe I should have little laminated instruction cards printed up and just hand them out. But I digress.)

So she put coffee in a stupid place and it spilled, and then bitches about it for the rest of the flight? Since I handn't looked at the woman when she wanted me to, I tried to imagine her. She had to be over 50, hair dyed and not very well, print button-up shirt, impractical shoes, and white pants. And she just HAD to be the kind of person who wears white pants on an airplane--in December on the way to Minnesota, no less.

My suspisions were confirmed as we de-planed. The guy who had been stuck next to her looked at me as he went past, glanced at her and rolled his eyes. I smirked and glanced at the woman next to me who was wearing a hijab, lifting part of it up to cover her mouth so her smile couldn't be seen, and then she rolled her eyes, too.

The woman in the coffee-stained white pants hurried up the jetway in front of me, eager to tell her story to people who hadn't witnessed it, so she could get some REAL sympathy.

Good luck with that.