Mr. Chalk 9

9

Mr. Chalk adjusted his seat belt as he glanced down the aisle of the airplane. General boarding had commenced as the plane sat on the tarmac at the Jacksonville International Airport.

“Isn’t this great,” said the young woman sitting beside Mr. Chalk. “I love the leg room you get in the emergency exit seats.”

Mr. Chalk turned towards the young woman and smiled. “Yes, it is very comfortable.”

The young women smiled back and asked, “is this your first time going to Shreveport?”

Mr. Chalk nodded silently in response.

“We were lucky getting these seats,” continued the young woman, “they’re usually snapped up early.”

“Yes we were fortunate,” said Mr. Chalk as he turned to focus his attention back on the aisle and the very large, overweight man struggling with two carry-on bags.

“Why are these planes so small?” complained the man to no one in particular. Finally, after bumping and jostling several seated passengers, the large man arrived at the row of seats in front of Mr. Chalk. He stopped and began to scan the seat numbers printed on the overhead luggage bins. Cursing under his breath, he dropped his carry-on bags in the aisle and began to search for his ticket.

“Where the hell did I put that ticket?” he said as he searched his pockets.

“There it is!” he exclaimed pulling it out of his vest pocket.

The man began to bob his head up and down as he looked at the boarding ticket and the seat numbers above him.

He pointed at the young woman sitting in the emergency exit aisle beside Mr. Chalk.

“They told me I had an emergency exit seat,” he said to the woman. “You’re in my seat,” he said motioning her to move.

“But my ticket says that this is my seat,” replied the young woman. She was obviously unsettled and a little bit frightened by his aggressive manner.

“Excuse me,” said Mr. Chalk looking at the man, “the young woman doesn’t want to move.” Mr. Chalk’s voice momentarily startled the large man. He was not used to someone questioning his authority.

“What did you say?” said the man turning to Mr. Chalk.

“I believe you should sit down in your own seat,” said Mr. Chalk.

The large man started to lean towards Mr. Chalk but stopped. Something about the look in Mr. Chalk’s eyes told him to back away.

“Fine!” he snarled, as he stuffed his two carry-on bags into the overhead bins.

The commotion created by this man was noticed by everyone. A flight attendant had been watching the scene from the back galley and was now standing beside the large man who was blocking the aisle.

“Hello I’m Cheryl, is there a problem here?” said the flight attendant looking at the large man and Mr. Chalk.

“No problem,” replied Mr. Chalk. “There was just a bit of confusion over the seating arrangements.”

Cheryl looked directly at the man who was now red faced and sweating profusely. “May I see your boarding pass sir?”

“Here,” he said, thrusting out the pass towards Cheryl.

Cheryl studied the boarding pass. “Your boarding pass clearly shows that this is your seat, Mr. Symens,” she said pointing to the middle seat in front of the emergency exit aisle.

Mr. Symens grabbed the pass from Cheryl and glared at Mr. Chalk as he proceeded to noisily squeeze himself into the middle seat.

“Excuse me,” said a voice over Symens’ head, “I’m sitting in the window seat beside you.”

Mr. Symens’ face went immediately back to crimson as he looked up to respond.

“Why don’t you go …” he started to say but then stopped.

Mr. Symens was looking up into the chiselled face of a six foot, two hundred pound marine in full battle fatigues.

“Why don’t I go what?” replied the marine.

Symens swallowed hard, “nothing,” he mumbled and struggled to get out of his seat.

The marine sat down at his window seat and Symens struggled back into his middle seat. Another marine, almost the same size as the first marine, came down the aisle, stopped, smiled politely at Symens and promptly sat down in the aisle seat beside him.

The young lady sitting beside Mr. Chalk giggled. She leaned over to Mr. Chalk and pointed at the row in front of them. “It looks like a marine sandwich with lots of ham,” she whispered.

The flight left on schedule with only minimal grumbling from Mr. Symens. As they gained altitude and started to level out at the cruising elevation, Symens began struggling with his seat. Repeated efforts to recline the seat resulted in mild expletives and increased frustration. Finally he pushed the flight attendant’s call button.

Cheryl came down the aisle and turned off the light of the call button. “Yes Mr. Symens?” asked the flight attendant.

“This seat is broken,” exclaimed the obese man, “it won’t recline.”

The flight attendant smiled.

“I’m sorry sir, but the row of seats in front of the emergency exit won’t recline. We have to keep that exit clear.”

Mr. Symens’ face turned back to a crimson red and his eyes began to bulge from the increased blood pressure.

“What type of cheap scam is this airline pulling?” he said. “First you sell me a seat that you claim is in the emergency exit and then you cram me in a seat that won’t even recline?” he yelled.

“Please sir, be calm,” replied the flight attendant, “if you have any complaints or issues with the airline, a representative at our destination in Shreveport will gladly handle your concerns.”

Symens struggled to remove himself from his seat. The marine in the aisle seat beside Mr. Symens quickly stood up and moved to one side. It took noticeably longer for Symens to extract himself from his seat.

“I’ll sue,” he exclaimed, pointing at the attendant, “this is total garbage.”

 The flight attendant held up her hands.

“Please sir,” she said, “you have to sit down.” 

“I can’t sit down,” he replied, “I feel sick thanks to your abuse.” He pushed past the flight attendant. “I have to get to the bathroom,” he complained, “I feel sick.”

Everyone on the plane leaned away from the aisle as the large man staggered down to the bathroom at the back of the plane, wedged himself inside and slammed the door.

“Wow,” said the young woman beside Mr. Chalk, “what a jerk.”

The rest of the flight was quiet and orderly as Symens remained in the bathroom. Every passenger on the plane was grateful that he had chosen not to come out. The rest of the flight was uneventful, and a short time later, the pilot announced to the passengers that they were starting their descent into Shreveport. The plane landed and began to taxi towards the airport gate.

“You don’t suppose he had a heart attack or something, do you?” said the young woman to Mr. Chalk as she pointed back towards the bathroom.

“I’m sure he’s just fine,” replied Mr. Chalk, “he’s exactly where he should be.”