First Class Feet Again

There's a mesh curtain that flight attendants are very careful to keep closed during flights, even though it's a pain to unfasten it as they move about the plane. It separates the first or envoy class from the "common folk." You can see through it, but I guess it's a barrier/reminder NOT to use the envoy bathrooms. That's against the rules. But, apparently, tourist feet by themselves are okay to go through the "great divide."

When we waited in the "preferred flyer" US Air lounge in Gatwick this week, the young woman behind the desk worked her craft to get us into Row 8, the "bulkhead"(with my very tall husband's medical history he has some "clot clout"). She claimed she got us the "very best seat." (Was God reserving it for us? Where were the babies that needed it for their cots?). The deal is, with four seats across, the row end seats in the bulkhead have nothing but space in front of them. Ah, stretching room! Right under the curtain and into first class went my tall husband's feet. No complaints from any sensitive envoy noses either. His feet rode first class the whole way across the Atlantic! Does God have a sense of humor or what?


I first wrote this just over four years ago. I'm thinking about this as the Gardener flies to the other side of the world later this week and again we're praying for good seats for his long legs on a very   l  o  n  g   journey. 


Connecting to Chari's Happy to Design for Sunday Reposts.