In-flight Adventures

“Twice!” The man said. He was buckled into his seat, or he probably would have taken a step towards me. Instead, he jabbed his head forward, then shook it once in disgust. “Twice, man. Twice!” he said, again.

I suddenly realized that I had stepped on his wife’s foot. Probably twice. I hadn’t noticed anything the first time and assumed I had successfully crossed from one aisle of the airplane to the other, deftly navigating the puzzle of legs along the bulkhead seating.

On the way back, I felt a slight bump as I put down my foot. Initially I thought I had simply stepped on some tidbit of airplane machinery, perhaps part of the seat assembly. Even looking down now, I could barely identify the woman’s feet against the carpet. She wore long dark boots that, at least to my eyes, nearly matched the color of the carpet. She was also terribly fat and wore a brightly colored shawl. The shawl’s brilliant orange and swirling patterns would not allow my eyes to focus on her comparatively small feet. Later, I would think back to this moment and marvel at how dainty and unobtrusive the woman’s feet in contrast to her loud bulk.

I looked wide-eyed at the floor, trying to focus on the outline of her boots. My eyes refused. The man next to her appeared to be an aging surfer. He seemed relatively athletic for the mostly white full beard and salt-and-pepper shoulder-length hair that somehow only hung back behind his head despite not being tied. He wore a t-shirt with cut-off sleeves that advertised some “Big Wave” event. He also wore shorts and sandals. He was somewhat pale. Unusually so, for a surfer. Perhaps he was also a dermitologist and wary of ultraviolet radiation.

The pair of them seemed strange. I considered the possiblity they were not married. It seemed odd that a laid-back surfer would be with such a fat woman. Yet if they were not married, surely she would have shifted to one of the two empty seats on her left rather than squeeze into the seat next to him.

As I had crossed in front of the two, in both directions I had somehow only noticed his pale legs and feet, quite visible against the dark carpet. I had hopped over him. That might have made it worse on the way back, not just stepping, but landing on the woman’s toe.

I looked at the woman’s face. She seemed shocked. I was also shocked by how fat she was and how I was still unable to see her feet, despite the fact I recognized she was wearing black boots.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say,” I said. She stared at me and said nothing, but seemed more surprised than angry. The surfer just looked down and shook his head. I think he mumbled, “Twice,” a fourth time. I went back to my seat.