He is really lovely, interesting and all, possibly, 5'2, with her practical and aviation High Blue High heels. Her smile is truly wonderful and for a moment I thought Blue Birds would surround her and sing. She cheerfully welcomes everyone including the man with bulging biceps announcing and a ridiculous black t-shirt. He knows the rules about handling luggage, but publicly continues to bend while stuffing an oversized backpack in the overhead compartment. Clearly, he is flirting with her as if he imagines himself to be a reincarnation of John Travolta or one of the other supported, Pomade-highlighted T-Birds from Rydell High.
I could really feel a bit sorry for him in a brief and very fleeting moment. It was like watching Nat Geo's excellent documentary about the Red-capped Manakin. The male bird, with a smooth black body, bright red head and nape, bright yellow thighs, pale yellow chin, and wing lining performs one of the most outrageous courtship dances among his feathered friends. His signature is the Moon Moonwalk, legendary among the fifty other species of Manakin. In this courtship ritual, he must simultaneously compete with other contestants for her affection. After strutting and flirting and bending in anticipation of receiving her teasing, if his moves are not worthy, she will fly away with a nod to his effort. Rejected and discouraged, his conjecture about mating, we would say, is antibacterial.
Meanwhile, as Mr. Delta Donjuan stands there watching the little struggle to contain both the Brobdingnagian luggage and his macho ego, I see him wink at her. He winks as if he really is Daniel Zuko! Suddenly, quickly and decisively as Lady Bird, unimpressed, has denied the not-so-slow Manakin, any thoughts of sympathy on my part have flown out the operational window (but safely sealed).
She did not reprimand or criticize this man, who is old enough to know better, and she did not accept his juvenile invitation. Instead, she insisted that it was no problem and found a place for his suitcase and the ski jacket he handed to her at the last second asking if she could put it on top of his luggage. She could not have less space between his suitcase and the top of the compartment than between well, his jeans are very tight. She calmly found a place for his Patagonia parka in the next compartment while maintaining that beautiful smile and positive attitude. He sat down and tried to place an early order for a scotch and soda. I wanted to intervene on her behalf.
That’s not entirely true. I really just wanted to stand up, knock his stupid outdated baseball cap off, point to me. To the flight attendant and everyone else on the plane for his rude and demeaning behavior! I wanted to make him turn around and look closely, hard at the inconvenience he has caused her and the impatient passengers waiting for his ridiculous antics to end.
But I let her do her job. And she did it with professional, perfect decorum. I, however, glared at him as he looked my way.
The scene ends.
As the second act begins, all luggage has been stowed, passengers are seated and their seatbelts are fastened. Generally, we pretend to watch the safety video and stabilize, best we can, bumping elbows with strangers on the left or right, quickly apologizing as the cabin lights dim.
When we reach cruising altitude, it is a cue for our attendant to perform the next stage of her mission. She walks to the center stage and begins to try to close the partition curtain. It is not a thick velvet curtain, like the luxurious symbol of days gone by that kept those in the economy even sneakily peeking at the Cordon Bleu and Chardonnay glasses served to those just from the uncomfortable region. This is not a critique of Flying First Class. I have done it and it is wonderful! Sometimes, when I am not flying in friendly skies, I dine at a fancy restaurant and order lobster and crème brûlée and other days I celebrate Taco Tuesday with $2.00 tacos. This is not a story of the rich or poor. This is a story about human kindness.
The budget cuts have highlighted because this performance looks like cheap fishnet stockings pulled from a long-retired tavern show. It is not functionally effective and yet, the meaning is quite effective. As our country endures a tough time on the economic front, many of us have had to forgo or cut back on some creature comforts that we, perhaps, were previously afforded in our daily lives (like, I don’t know, 2-ply toilet paper or filling our cars with gas without a second mortgage). Commercial airlines are also feeling the squeeze forcing passengers, themselves, to squeeze into smaller seats. Unfit jeans.
No more free baked cookies have become a hallmark of a specific airline. No pillows or blankets for each passenger and no free playing cards, as my father collected from his business trips when I was young. Armrests have become custody battles and there are fees for things that were once standard parts of a plane ticket. Would you like to breathe fresh oxygen on this flight? That will be an additional $347.00.
But some snaps seem to be breaking on the blue mesh curtain. She can hardly reach the top despite standing on her high-heeled toes and her repeated efforts to narrow the proverbial gap between the haves and have-nots are futile. As I watch, feeling helpless, from a few rows back, myself only 5'2, hoping this magnificent sight will end with her, the tall man in the first seat of the first row in our class, the officially designated Separation, undisturbed, stands up and holds the top to ensure the first of many. She looks up at his six-foot frame. The panic like a desperate mask from The Phantom of the Opera, melting from her face.
The audience in first class, to whom this scene is presented, knows nothing of what has transpired backstage from where they sit. They do not know the desperation she must feel trying to perform her duty. They do not know that some others, who could easily let their ego lead in this unrequested role, have become heroes for a struggling actress in the role of the charming flight attendant. As he methodically and assuredly snaps the remaining snaps, the final act has concluded, the curtain is officially drawn.
The great divide is not the curtain. It is not the divide between first and economy but between arrogance and humility, between entitlement and selflessness, between concern and indifference, between choosing to act in this moment or turning a blind eye. The silent applause and in our silence, we shared a resounding welcome. Bravo! Bravo! Encore, compatriots. But he did not turn back to face the crowd or bow. He simply returned to his seat in economy as the humble Ambassador of Kindness, a true gentleman, first class.