SHORT STORY: The Woman in Seat 2A

She was a woman who appeared in her mid 40's. No particularly discernible qualities. Muddy brown, wiry hair that was long and pulled back to a low hanging side-ponytail to the left of her head. A blueish tie-dye t-shirt, Levi's jeans with embellished pockets, generic black sneakers, drug store sunglasses perched on the crown of her head, and no makeup. She was the kind of gal you would immediately think of as living in the country, loved horses, maybe smoked a casual cigarette, and was out in the sun so much that it had aged her skin. Rough...but, genuine. Raw. A woman who could hold her own. A woman who had seen a thing or two during her lifetime. I don't know her name, so I'll just call her "2A".



I watched her enter the plane, scanning the seat row signs on the overhead bins. She'd found her seat not too far past where she had entered: 2A. A single window seat in First Class. A seat where she didn't have to talk to anyone.

Normally, in First Class, you would see those who dress in business suits, high-end sweat ensembles, and even those who put on their best (yet, least comfortable) fine clothing with expensive jewelry and designer heels/bags to match. 2A was not your typical definition of First Class passenger.

She gently set down her small backpack, on the floor in front of her seat. It was made of black canvas and worn brown leather. As the other passengers continued to board, an attendant stopped the line to take her drink order. The woman in 2A asked what the attendant had to offer and ended up smiling when she found that she could enjoy an 805 beer at no charge.

The attendant then passed out warm washcloths to each of the First Class passengers so they could wash their hands before having a preflight snack. When the flight attendant reached 2A, she apologized that there were no 805's onboard and offered 2A a list of alternate beers. Budweiser was going to be the one 2A would enjoy before takeoff.

As the flight attendant walked away, leaving the washcloth, 2A quietly looked around to see who all was around her. There were a scattering of four empty seats in this small area of First Class. She took that washcloth, held it snugly up to her face and nose, and inhaled deeply...as if the lemony-bleach scent was cleansing her soul and preparing her for an experience that was new. She then washed her hands.

I was enjoying being able to watch 2A from a slight distance. This wasn't my first time in First Class. I sometimes feel that I, too, am watched when I sit in this particular section...as if I am questioned if I may have inadvertently taken a seat in the wrong place. Watching 2A reminded me of my first flight in First Class. The giddiness and the feeling of being "special". It seemed all so new to her, and I was able to relive that joy vicariously through her. Call me a voyeur. Call me a creeper. I was completely enjoying her contentment.

Along came the flight attendant and gave 2A her Budweiser and a tiny heated bowl of warm mixed nuts. We had not yet taken off and 2A was full of bliss. It occurred to me that I need to practice finding bliss in small things. I watched her inspect each nut individually, before placing them in her mouth, and savoring each of them one-by-one. An announcement was made that all phones and handheld electronics needed to be placed in Airplane Mode or turned off. At this point, 2A reached down awkwardly for her backpack and pulled out an archaic, small cell phone. This was no smart phone. Not a even a flip-phone. It was a phone that resembled an old Sony or Ericsson that was like a miniature wireless phone from home. She shut it off.

Our plane took off, and 2A was twisted around in her seat, watching the clouds as if she had never seen the tops of them before. I started wondering if this was her first flight. Why was she flying? Had she splurged on a First Class ticket for herself? Had someone at the gate given her the gift of an upgrade? What was her final destination? Maybe someone else had purchased the ticket for her. Maybe she was going to visit a wealthy relative or attend the funeral of a loved one and family was flying her out. The stories I came up with were both fantastic and dramatic. Her watching the clouds put a large smile on my face. I was sure that I was going to be caught watching her enjoy her flight. I did not care. I hadn't seen such newborn joy in quite some time.

The flight attendant came around again, this time, to take a lunch order from each passenger. 2A looked over the two selections and ended up ordering what I was going to choose: the protein plate. Seeing that she had finished her beer, the flight attendant offered her another one. 2A's eyes lit up as she took that offer. She sat back in her seat as to process what it was like getting food and another free drink. She closed her eyes and smiled to herself.

When lunch came around, I watched her eat her protein plate, and it was just as wondrous as watching her eat the warm mixed nuts. There was a hard-boiled egg, cut in half, on which she lightly sprinkled salt. There were grapes, hummus, raw mixed vegetables, pita bread, sliced apples, and brie cheese. She handled her fork and knife in the most barbaric of ways...and yet was so light with her touch. It was as if she had never used utensils before this moment. She cut up each and every item that was on her plate, switching her fork from one hand to the other. She looked at and savored each bite and took her time inspecting, tasting, and chewing each piece. Halfway through, I saw her sit deeply back in her chair, take a large breath, and sigh as if she had been blessed by God on this day.

I don't know who she was...where she was going...or if this was her first time on a plane (or, in First Class)...but, I was fully immersed in her every move. In every sigh and smile. My mind ran wild with how much joy she was quietly exuding. I secretly wanted to thank her for making my flight incredibly memorable, peaceful, and enjoyable. I wondered what it was like to be her at that moment.

The best I could do was to journal my experience about 2A.
Somehow, unbeknownst to her, her soul deeply touched mine during that flight.