Regrets — Acting Like a Child (The Wheels Fall Off)

Through the haze, I heard the agent mutter something about a seat reassignment. 

He quickly confiscated my boarding pass and handed me a new one. At first, the obscene markings on the new boarding pass didn’t even register, but then I focused my eyes and understood — seat 37E.

The fog lifted, and I became razor-focused on my surroundings.

WHAT??!!! 37E??!!!

I didn’t know exactly where 37E was, but I knew it was a) near the back of the plane and b) in the freakin middle seat of the middle aisle.

And the wheels fell off.

I don’t know who grabbed control. Obviously, it was some version of me, but I never want to meet that guy again. Do we all have this ugly infant inside of us?

I had a full-on out-of-body experience because one appalled part of my brain. I remember thinking, “Oh my God, stop!” I couldn’t, though. 

At one point, the agent asked me to please step aside so that the manager on duty could help me without holding up the process. 

I simply refused, like a child.

“I’m staying right here, blocking this line, until this is fixed!”

I was yelling and waving my arms. I wouldn’t be surprised if I stomped my foot at some point. At one point, I left the gate agent, stewed on it some more, and returned to pick up the fight. But in the end, I got no satisfaction. 

I was flying home in seat 37E.