Middle Passage

Among the less-obvious advantages to losing weight is surviving crowded flights.

Travelling to my Favorite Place in the World last week there were two legs on the flight, to Orlando and then to Providence. Southwest, generally the best airline I fly, fell from grace this time. It kept us out on the tarmac in Orlando for 30 minutes after landing. By the time I disembarked they were stern voices in the concourse telling me to get to the Providence gate, and fast.

Those of us who fly SW a lot are obsessed with the assigned number in line, and because this time I e-checked in exactly 24 hours ahead I was number A 22, which is near as good as it gets on a cheap flight. But because of tarmac time it didn't matter, and as I hustled on they said we have one seat left we are holding. It's down there, about row 20.

I was not surprised to see the mildly well-fed guy on the aisle, maybe 225, who I learned during the flight (by eying his laptop screen, geez he did nothing to hide it) worked in IT outsourcing. The lady on the window, on the other hand, was breathtaking. A magnificent 400 pounds, had to be. Her bounteous right thigh oozed under the armrest a good three inches into my prospective territory.

I sat down and Mr. Strays, even the new more-slender version, was not rolling around in his seat. Her right thigh and my left one were burning through fabric for the next two hours. (Actually, after while, I moved my wallet to my left pocket. It was just too steamy. When I slid the wallet in she gave me a look. Since she was reading a novel about the End of Days, I'm sure she took refuge in the knowledge that I would stay behind with the heathen while she went up in rapture. That'll teach him, the weirdo.)

But I did make it, and I'm not sure pre-cancer, pre-losing-the-weight (at this point 35 pounds) I could have. A kind of silver lining. Maybe silver plate.

The SW flight attendant magnanimously waived off my coupon when she brought me a Bailey's Irish Cream (not, with my delicate condition, as benign as it sounds.) I listened to lectures on the Second Punic War and finally drowned myself in Erroll Garner. Blessings upon my daughter who gave me the Ipod.