Member-only story
The Woman on the Plane: a short, “true” story
She and her husband were in the last boarding group for the early morning flight on Southwest. They rushed onto the plane just before the doors closed. The husband came down the aisle first, squinting towards the back of the plane, his unzipped jacket lightly brushing the elbows of everyone in the aisle seats. He strode past my row, near the back of the plane and found a seat.
She stomped behind him, lips pressed together and breathing in sharp little exhales. She wore a black scarf wound artfully around her head, eyelashes too long to be real, and perfectly arranged black leggings under a voluminous, colorful sweater.
Only middle seats were left on the plane. In my row, a quiet older woman had the window seat and I had the aisle. The woman in the black scarf carried a half-unzipped backpack in front of her. She stumbled over the emergency light strip just before my row and a tumble of makeup, brushes and lotions spilled from her bag. She blew a forceful gust of air through her lips and crouched down in the aisle to pick everything up.
She mumbled to herself as she filled her hands with the debris from her backpack. When a man on the aisle leaned in to help, she waved a hand at him and shook her head. Finally, she scooped everything from the floor back into her pack, pulled the zipper mostly closed and shoved it…