– Sir, you have to sit in the back.
I looked up from my phone and saw the flight attendant standing over me; she had that forced smile people get when they’ve already made up their minds about you.
She was young and well-groomed – perfect hairstyle, perfectly tied scarf, tablet in one hand and self-confidence radiating from her entire demeanor.
“This is the premium area,” she said. “Economy class is over there, at the end of the aisle.”
I looked at my boarding pass.
And then back at her.
“Seat 1A,” I said. “That’s my seat.”
Her smile became even more artificial.
“Sir,” she said, louder this time to make sure those around us could hear, “I’m going to have to ask you to stop arguing and go to the section you’ve been assigned to.”
There was that special atmosphere in the cabin – half calm, half feverish – that always accompanies flights before take-off.
Overhead storage compartments slam shut.
The clicks of seat belts being fastened.
A baby crying somewhere behind the curtain.
The sound of ice cubes hitting plastic cups.
The smell of coffee, perfume, air conditioning and impatience.
