“Honey, they shrunk the plane,” muttered my wife as we took our seats on a recent flight to Iowa.
I assured her that the plane hadn’t been shrunk, we had just super-sized our meals too often at fast food places lately. That did little to improve her mood but the knot she put on my noggin’ did later get me special attention from the flight attendant.
“Can I get an ice pack on aisle 18?”
I confidently proclaimed we would only have to put up with the smaller plane for the first leg of our journey. Once we made our connection in Houston we would be on a bigger plane and there might even be room to spread out.
As I began examining the boarding passes I had in my pocket at our layover in Houston I came to the realization I had lied to my already white-knuckled flying companion. We were in fact about to make an even longer flight on the same model of aircraft.
This time we were nearly at the back of the aircraft with a couple of business travelers behind us that talked loudly about their business excursion throughout the flight.
Shortly after getting airborne the wife informed me she was feeling ill. I immediately started looking for one of those barf bags to no avail but she told me she wasn’t going to throw up, she just was having an anxiety attack.
“We have pills to help with that,” I remembered. Then I realized those nerve-calming prescription drugs were tucked away in the carry-on bag they had taken from me on the ramp because the plane was too darn small to stow carry-on luggage.
It was a long flight.
On the night prior to the return flight my sweet wife declared she didn’t know if she could get back on the plane again. She then jumped down my throat for not taking the trip insurance that would have allowed her to back out without paying a penalty.
I checked into the type of aircraft we would be flying as we went back this time through Denver. The first airplane was a bigger one thank goodness and I learned I could actually upgrade our seats for about the price of trip insurance to something called economy-plus which didn’t get us a hot meal or free cocktails but it did provide a couple of extra inches of butt room.
Considering the bruises on my bride’s hips and the goose egg on my head I made the investment. I carefully checked to make sure the Xanax was on our person as we boarded. In fact, I urged the lady with a fear of flying like a load of cattle to the slaughter to pop one before the plane arrived. She thought two might be better.
What a great flight to Denver! Only one more leg.
The grumpiness of earlier in the week returned after we squeezed into our seats in the smaller plane to Amarillo. A few minutes after got seated a maintenance man came down the aisle saying he would check for the part. The pilot declared it would be a 20-minute delay. Couldn’t he have made that announcement before we wedged ourselves into those tiny seats?
To keep from bailing out the cabin door, wife decided to take another happy pill. About 40 minutes later we took off. A short time later I could hear snoring in the seat next to me. That flight wasn’t too bad either.
Karl Terry writes for Clovis Media Inc. Contact him at: firstname.lastname@example.org