A Seat With A View

The week before I left was really hectic!  At work, I edited and signed off on all my reports, wrote notes re “hot spots” and unfinished activities in the schools where I had worked for the psychologists who would take over in my absence, said goodbye to the secretaries, deposited my last check, waved to the banker who would follow my finances and finally headed home.   I had cancelled the telephone, dealt with the mail, dumped the trash, emptied the refrigerator, etc. etc. etc.  My landlord had made four little horses to jack up my car to protect the tires as soon as I left.  I had carefully packed my luggage. My to-do list was blank.  I watched TV for a while, took my shower and laid out my clothes for the morrow.   I was ready to go.

I awoke before the alarm went off and idled time until it was time to call a cab.   I made the millionth check of my passport, tickets and miscellany of documents, then trundled my bags out to the curb to the waiting cab and a champagne send off at the airport.  There, I was dismayed when friends and co-workers began arriving with little “departure” gifts in hand - a second lipstick, a small tube of hand cream, body lotion, an atomizer of deodorant for a time when I ran into an unwelcome stench, towelettes, etc.  They were all well thought out, useful gifts.  But I already had my 30 kilos of baggage!  I stuffed as many as possible into my pockets and purse until there was no more room.  Then, sadly, I had to refuse the rest.

The champagne came and we toasted each other, the trip, our supervisors, the world, the future, and ourselves once again. Then came departure time.  I gathered together my cameras, the binoculars, my coat and purse and struggled like a loaded (in more ways than one) coat rack up the steps onto the plane and into my seat!   As I felt the air under the wings, I heaved a big sigh of relief!  I was free! 

I still had a few bridges to cross!    There was a change of planes in Chicago—no problem.  My  plane was on time and I checked in promptly to avoid any last minute crowds.  As I did so, I noticed a large mock-up of the plane beside the ticket counter.  It had little red tags on each seat number.  No one said anything to me about removing my tag, and naturally, I wouldn’t have considered defacing an airport display on my own!  Who would have thought that such a decision would be my undoing - that leaving the tag indicated that that seat was unccupied! 

I didn’t hurry to be first on the plane, and when I got to my seat—there sat a US sailor!  I turned to the stewardess who told me to return to the counter to resolve the issue, but I refused, saying that I had checked in on time, was assigned the seat and that she would have to find me a place to sit. (I hesitated to move a serviceman.) I wasn’t getting off of that plane!

The plane was full!  Again the stewardess suggested I get off, and again I refused.  She had to do something with me, so she led me up through the first class cabin to a small lounge area next to the galley. The seat was not designed for comfort and there was no seat belt. but I sat down gratefully. (Today, of course, such a procedure would be off limits.)

The seat was a narrow, “L” shaped board around a small table,  but it had an unexpected positive.  Along side was a large, expanded, picture window!  I have failed to mention that although I had driven, alone, throughout Europe and travelled extensively around South America, this was the first time I had ever been west of the Mississippi!  It was a beautiful day and this window provided me with a “first class” view of the western USA.  I don’t think planes flew as high in those days, because I had a marvelously close view of the mountains all the way across to the Pacific, and down along the coast to San Francisco!   After all my travels, I was spellbound by my own country!