First Class Half the Way

You know how sometimes in movies the protagonist has this sudden and bizarre bit of luck in their travels that puts them in first class?
Totally happened to me.

I arrived at LAX and got a ticket with no seat on it.
Gate, yes.
Seat, no.
Apparently, they intended on assigning the seat at the gate.
Terrifying much?
Get to the gate and there are two lists of names:
Those who are on the waiting list for confirmed seating; and,
Those who should go to the gate desk and get their already confirmed seating.
As my name is on the second list, I head over to the desk where a pretty blonde is waiting to talk to the man in charge.

Are you waiting in line to get your ticket.


(I take my place behind her, mind your manners)

Are you traveling alone?

(glancing behind me)

I have two dogs with me and I need to switch from first to economy.
Do you want to switch with me?

(in my head a story plays of meeting someone in first class who could get me involved in publishing as either an editor or a writer and then introduce me to my future husband with whom I will have three children and a backyard devoted to dead goldfish because the little crumb-snatchers just don't get it that taking a fish out of water is equivalent to drowning a person, "I told you, sweetie, Gill can't take naps with you.")

Her name?
Derived from Juliana, the use of which was popularized in Elizabethan poetry as a sort of goddess of July and summer and vivacity and good fortune.
Unfortunately, my neighbor was not very neighborly.
Botoxed, tanned plastic completely absorbed in Brad's most recent and egregious offense against Jennifer.
Being in first class, however, I felt super grateful to the air hostess and host.
I have never worked in the service industry, but I know people who have.
They hate it.
It sucks.
So, I'm nice.
I say "please" and "thank you" which everyone should anyway because it's neighborly.
When they offer a beverage, they are shocked whenI request an apple juice.
They seriously brought me warm nuts.
Yes, they gave everyone in first class warm nuts, but I thought that was a joke.
You know, an excuse to say "warm nuts".
Oh, and back to having nice manners, no one was saying the magic words.
Not at first.
I even heard a bit if snickering when I did it.
Then, someone sneezed.
I couldn't help myself, it's ingrained in me.

Bless you.

Thank you.

First bit of gratitude that wasn't coming from me I swear to the great pumpkin.
Also,people were kinda greedy with those courtesy blankets.
They sat on them or stuffed them in their bag, but I didn't actually see anyone use it.
As soon as I was in my seat I tucked my blanket in the pouch in front of me.

Excuse me. Are you using that blanket? There's a little boy -

(trying not to throw it in my excitement at being asked)
Take it.

Are you sure?

Yes, of course.

By the end of the flight there wasn't a grumpy-kin left in first class.
The guy sitting behind me positively insisted on getting me my suitcase from the overhead compartment.

Thank you very much.

You're welcome. They don't make them like they used to.

I use an old Amelia Earhart brand suitcase.
It's gorgeous; and, yes, they don't make them like they use to.
Use your words.
Use your manners.
Try your hardest not to end your sentences with a preposition.
Also, gum is a real ear-saver.
Look, Ma, no pain!
Thanks for having me, Denver.
Next, please.