An affluent man becomes displeased with being seated next to a corpulent woman in first class and begins to voice his complaints to the flight attendant.
The instant James Courtney spotted the woman seated beside him on the flight, he knew it was going to be a rough one. She was enormous! With her seated next him, how in the world was he going to travel in comfort?
The woman took a seat, jabbing at James with her elbow as she fastened her seat belt. “Observe it!” She turned to face James as he aggressively yelled at her.
She sobbed, “Oh, I’m so sorry. Please pardon me.”
“Pardon me?” sarcastically questioned James. Or pardon the three thousand doughnuts you consumed to reach that weight?
The woman gave him a startled gasp, and James noticed that she was rather young with a weak but sweet face. He was inspired to scoff, “Lady, you need to book TWO seats when you travel!”
The woman’s eyes welled up with tears, but James was in the mood, especially after noticing how cheap and dated her clothes were and how worn out her shoes were.
“I assume your entire budget goes on nachos and hot dogs, right?” he asked. So you’re not able to afford two seats? The next time you pass the hat, I’m sure everyone on the plane will be quite giving!
The woman turned to face the window, and James saw the tears streaming down her cheeks in the reflection. He said, “Listen.” “I’m sure my friend who owns a clinic down in Mexico would give you a liposuction for a lot less money!”
By the time James felt his discomfort from being pressed up against her soft weight had subsided, the young woman’s shoulders were quivering with sobs. He thus requested a Martini when the bartender arrived with the drinks cart.
In his best James Bond voice, he said, “Shaken, not stirred,” and then, “I don’t know what Moby Dick here will drink.”
The attractive attendant gave him a snide look while pressing her lips together tightly. Next, she spoke to the woman seated beside her. “Madam, what would you like to drink?”
With a nod, the woman dabbed at her eyes. “Please, give me a diet Coke.”
James sneered. “Don’t you think a diet Coke would be a little late in the game?” Though James felt a slight glow upon realizing he’d upset both the flight attendant and the woman, they both chose to ignore him.
While the woman next to him sipped her diet Coke, he reclined and bit on an olive and sipped his Martini. With a shudder, he realized she would eventually need to use the restroom and would be squeezing by him.
Shortly after he had finished his last drink, the flight attendant arrived carrying food. She placed a lovely tray in front of him and another one in front of the passenger next him.
“Are you certain that will suffice?” The flight attendant was asked by James, “Why do you think it would take a village to feed this lady?”
Disregarding him, the flight attendant continued serving the other first-class customers. “She really was impolite, wasn’t that?” James questioned the person seated beside him, saying, “I think I’ll complain about her.”
However, the other traveler disregarded him as well, and James proceeded to enjoy the genuinely superb meal. When the flight attendant returned, he was finishing the last of his wine, and she was beaming.
“Pardon me,” she began. “The captain would love to have you come up to the cockpit. He’s a big fan.”
After being startled, James noticed that the large woman sitting next to him was being spoken to by the flight attendant. She was flushing, nodding, and smiling. This implied that James needed to stand up and give her space.
After guiding the woman off of the aircraft, James resumed his seat. He expected to be forwarding a good deal of venomous emails concerning the first class service and conditions on the company’s flights to the management.
When the captain’s voice came over the speakers, he was mentally crafting some great diatribes. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. One of us is a celebrity! You will recognize the voice if, like me, you are an avid listener of “I Love Opera.”
When a beautiful voice began singing a few bars of a well-known aria in the cabin, the other passengers began to applaud and make joyful comments to one another. “That’s correct,” declared the captain. “We’re flying with the lovely Miss Allison Jones to perform a charity concert for world hunger.”
James winced as the entire aircraft broke into spontaneous applause. The flight attendant then approached. “Listen up, buster,” she replied in a harsh, icy tone. “I’m putting you in economy if you upset that girl again, no matter how many millions you have.”
James noticed the sparkle in the flight attendant’s eye as he opened his mouth to object. “I apologize,” he muttered.
“You don’t have to apologize to me!” said she.
After some time, Allison Jones, the large woman, reappeared, grinning and signing autographs for the other travelers. James shot to his feet to give her room to sit.
He smiled his most endearing smile and said, “Listen.” “I apologize if I offended you a little; I didn’t know who you were.”
James saw that Allison had the most stunning eyes when she turned to face him. It makes no difference who I am. Never, ever treat someone that way! Furthermore, you’re not sorry. If I wasn’t sort of famous, would you even be saying sorry? I mean, I can’t control my weight, but you can alter your mindset. Give up passing judgment on others.
James stopped talking, lowered himself back into his chair, and remained silent until their arrival in Portland.
Four Years after My Husband Went Missing, a Dog Brought Me the Jacket He Was Wearing on the Day He Disappeared
Maggie had finally accepted that her husband had vanished on a solo trip four years prior. Maggie felt a surge of hope as their ancient family dog unexpectedly appeared, holding her husband’s faded jacket in its mouth. She followed the dog into the forest, motivated by something beyond reason, and discovered a truth beyond her wildest dreams.
I recall the day Jason departed like it was yesterday. He’d been fighting a bad attitude for months, yet this morning he appeared almost calm. He informed me he wanted a day alone in the mountains with Scout, our beloved black Labrador. Our children, too young to understand, were content simply watching their father scratch Scout’s ears, his first smile in weeks breaking across his face.
“Are you sure you don’t want company?” I inquired as I carried our toddler son, Benny, while our four-year-old daughter, Emily, squeezed my leg.
But he never returned.
The hunt began as soon as he failed to return that night. Friends, neighbors, and search teams explored the forest, shouting out his name, their voices echoing in the vast woods. Weeks passed, and everyone began to look at me with a horrible combination of sympathy and helplessness. After months, they proclaimed him legally de:ad, which I had no choice but to accept, though I was never completely at peace with it.
Life continued on. Jason’s hiking boots remained by the door, and his coffee mug, which had a chip on the rim, was never moved. When the kids asked about him, I’d tell them stories and do my best to keep his memory alive.
Then, on a calm Saturday, as I lay on a blanket watching the kids play in the backyard, I observed movement in the bushes. It was a thin, scruffy dog with a matted and muddy coat. At first, I did not recognize him. But then my heart skipped a beat. It was Scout. After all these years, here he stood, old and fragile but unmistakable.
“Scout?” I whispered, and as if in response, he took a step closer, a familiar green jacket dangling from his mouth—Jason’s favorite hiking jacket. I barely had time to process before Scout turned and started trotting toward the trees. Driven by a mix of hope and fear, I told the kids to stay put and followed.
Through the winding paths, over damp leaves and under low-hanging branches, Scout kept leading me deeper into the forest. And just as the sun began to dip below the trees, we came upon a small, weathered cabin nestled into the woods, almost camouflaged against the thick trunks and greenery.
Inside, moving around as if he’d never left, was Jason.
His hair was long and knotted, with a scruffy beard covering his face, and he appeared to be at ease in his alone. But he wasn’t alone—a woman stood alongside him, close and comfortable, as if they had a life together. My pulse hammered as I grasped the scope of Jason’s secret life.
I pushed open the door, and the creak startled both of them. Jason’s eyes widened, his face a mixture of amazement and acceptance.
“Maggie…” he murmured, his voice too calm and nonchalant.
“Jason,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I looked to the woman next to him, then back at him. “What is this?” I asked, unable to believe what I was seeing.
His response dashed any hope I had left: “I found something real here, something I couldn’t have back there.” He looked to the woman next him and said, “Sarah and I have built a simple, meaningful life.”
His words felt prepared and hollow. Every reason he offered only fueled my sense of betrayal. I’d been grieving him for years, raising our children alone, convinced that he was no longer with us. And now, here he was, rationalizing a full abandonment that had ruined the life we had created.
Without saying another word, I turned and walked away. The guy I had loved, the father of my children, was a ghost I no longer recognized.
The next morning, I sat across from a lawyer, feeling stronger than I had ever been. “I want a divorce,” I replied, “and I want support for our children.”
That day, I let go of the life I’d been holding onto. I realized that Jason had chosen one route, but I had to construct my own, one based on love, honesty, and stability. I would shield my children from a world full with false promises, and I would never look back.
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