The Woman in 3B - Eliza Lentzski Page 0,60

toward the flight deck, but I decided to serve the front of the plane first. I needed to rid myself of the anxious knot in my stomach. I needed to rip off the metaphorical Band-Aid.

I kept my eyes low, practically glued to the ugly blue carpet that lined the plane’s center aisle, as I passed out cups of water and took drink orders from the front of the plane.

Like usual, Anissa sat in seat 3B. Not typical, however, were the noise-canceling headphones she wore. Her head was lowered, eyes focused on the screen of her tablet—the tablet I had hand-delivered to her house only a few days earlier. The headphones and her body language indicated she was just as eager to avoid me as I was her. She had already lowered her seat tray, so all I had to do was drop off her cranberry, splash of seltzer and I wouldn’t have to think about her again until we were up in the air and delivering the second beverage and snack service.

I lingered, unacknowledged, by her seat, clutching the cranberry, seltzer, and ice in its flimsy plastic cup. Gemma had already achieved for me the bingo square for dumping a drink on a passenger, but nothing was really keeping me from following through on the original task I’d intended at the start of the month. I imagined myself pouring the full drink over the top of her head like the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. I envisioned in my mind’s eye the mixed look of surprise and horror on her beautiful face as the liquid poured off her dark, glossy hair and saturated her freshly pressed blouse and spilled onto her wrinkle-free linen pants.

My hand slightly shook as I bent at the waist and carefully—painstakingly so—set her beverage of choice on her tray table, next to her tan hand. I expected her golden eyes to lift to mine or to even hear a quiet word of thanks. But instead, she continued to ignore my presence.

I finished delivering water to the other First Class passengers and returned to the front galley while the rest of the plane boarded. Although my focus should have been on the newly-arriving passengers, my attention continually strayed to the woman in 3B. My position in the front galley gave me an unobstructed view of the third row and the woman seated in the aisle. Anissa never once looked up, although her fingers lightly gripped the filled plastic cup I had left on her seat tray.

I began to angrily fill the drink order for the other passengers in my section. Ice cubes noisily struck the sides of each glass as I practically threw ice into the plastic cups. I chewed on the insides of my cheeks and my nostrils flared.

Anissa continued to ignore me while I served drinks to the rest of my section. Her eyes remained glued to her tablet when the cabin doors closed and the safety video played. The longer I stared without her looking up from her tablet, the more frustrated I grew. She could at least acknowledge me. We were consenting adults who had spent an intimate weekend together. I deserved more. I deserved eye contact at the very least.

Anissa’s blatant dismissal had made me feel cheap and disposable—like complimentary airline earbuds. They sufficed if you’d forgotten your own, but you realistically didn’t keep them around for more than the duration of your flight. You threw them away after one use or left them behind in the seatback pocket. I had been like a perk for a valued customer.

The plane began to taxi towards the runway, and I began my final walkthrough down the plane’s center aisle. My eyes swept from seat to seat, checking to make sure that seatbelts were securely fastened and that seats were in their upright position. I paused towards the back of Business Class when I noticed a middle-aged woman with her cellphone pressed against her ear.

I spoke loud enough to be heard over the increasing volume of the airplane’s engines: “Ma’am, the cabin door has closed and we’re preparing for takeoff. I need you to end your call and turn your phone to airplane mode.”

The woman waved me off, confirming she’d heard my request, but she continued to talk on her phone.

“Yes, I’ll see you when I land in three hours,” she told the person on the other end of the call, “if the plane even makes it there at all.”

The woman paused and lowered her voice,