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.
