When James is on his way home after a swimming competition in London, all he wants is to sleep on the flight. But that’s the last thing on the agenda because sitting next to him is a woman who only wants to cause trouble. Eight hours later, the captain teaches her a lesson.
I was already prepared for the flight. I knew that it was going to be a long one. I mean, eight hours from London to New York was not going to be easy, but I had my earplugs, sleeping pills, and a few snacks to keep me going.
I had just wrapped up a grueling swimming competition, and every muscle in my body was crying for some much-needed rest. I was in the middle seat, which wasn’t ideal for my height, but I was too tired to care. The woman next to me, at the window, seemed just as wiped out as I was, and I could see her eyes drooping before we took off.
We exchanged a weary smile before settling into our seats.
It’s okay, James, I thought to myself. You’ll sleep through it all.
But then there was the woman who was going to be the cause of absolute mayhem and discomfort for the next eight hours.
From the moment she sat down next to me, I sensed that she was going to be trouble. She was huffing and puffing and shifting around like she’d been assigned to a seat in the luggage compartment instead of economy.
“Oh boy,” the window-seat woman sighed.
Aisle-seat woman, let’s call her Karen, kept eyeing me up and down, her mouth twisting into a frown.
Look, I’m a tall guy at six foot two. I was used to getting uncomfortable stares in airplanes, but it wasn’t my fault.
The first sign of trouble came when the plane took off. Karen pressed the call button, not once like any rational person, but three times in a row, like she was setting off an alarm.
I almost expected an alarm to sound off in the airplane.
“Ma’am,” the flight attendant asked when we had reached cruising altitude, “how can I help you?”
“This seat is unacceptable!” Karen snapped. Her voice was loud enough to draw attention from the rows around us.
“I’m cramped, and look at these two… people! They’re practically spilling over into my space.”
She shot a look at me, then at the woman at the window, who was staring straight ahead, pretending not to notice.
“I’m sorry, but we’re fully booked today,” the flight attendant replied. “There’s nowhere else for you to move.”
“You mean that there’s not one seat available on this flight? What about business class? Nothing?” she demanded.
“No, ma’am,” the flight attendant said. “There’s nothing available.”
“Then I want them moved,” Karen declared, louder this time. “I paid for this seat just like everyone else here, and it’s not fair that I have to be squished next to them. I can’t even open a packet of chips without bumping into this guy.”
For emphasis, she elbowed me in the arm.
I glanced over at the woman in the window seat, who looked on the verge of tears. My patience was wearing thin, too, and I couldn’t handle this woman when my energy tank was empty.
“Ma’am,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could, “we’re all just trying to get through this flight and get to our destinations. There’s really nothing wrong with the seating arrangements here.”
“Nothing wrong?” Karen barked. “Are you kidding me? Are you blind?”
She continued her rant for what felt like hours. And it was clear she wasn’t going to drop it. I tried to ignore her, but she kept shifting in her seat, kicking my legs, and continuously elbowing my arm.
By the fourth hour, I was cranky and exhausted beyond any other moment in my life. I was done.
“Look,” I said, turning to her as the flight attendant wheeled a cart down the aisle, “we can keep this up for the rest of the flight, or we can try and make the best of a bad situation. Why don’t you watch something on the screen? There are some pretty good movies here.”
But she wasn’t having it at all.
“Why don’t you tell her to go on a diet? And why don’t you learn to book seats that have space for your gigantic legs? Why do you both insist on making my life hell?” Karen hissed.
And the entire time we had been talking, Karen was busy pressing the call button.
I felt my blood boil and watched as the woman sitting next to the window tried to make herself as small as possible.
I could see the flight attendants murmuring amongst themselves, giving Karen dirty looks. If I’m being honest, I was just hoping that one of them would slip her a sedative or something. Finally, a flight attendant came over, looking as upset as I was.
“Ma’am, if you don’t calm down, we’re going to have to ask you to stay seated and not press the call button again, not unless it’s an actual emergency.”
“Oh, this is an emergency!” she shouted. “It’s a human rights violation! My rights are being violated, and everyone is just ignoring that!”
The rest of the flight went on like this, with Karen sighing dramatically, muttering under her breath, and generally making everyone around us miserable.
I just kept my head down and tried to focus on the tiny screen in front of me, tracking our progress home.
When we finally landed, I couldn’t have been any happier if I tried. This nightmare was almost over.
But then, as soon as the wheels touched down, Karen was out of her seat, darting up the aisle as if she was about to miss her connecting flight to Mars. The seatbelt sign was still on, and everyone was sitting patiently, waiting for it to turn off.
But not Karen. No, she was ignoring all the calls from the flight attendants, not even looking back. Soon, she was standing right next to the curtain separating the business-class seats from economy.
The rest of us just watched, too exhausted and frustrated to react.
Then came the captain’s voice over the intercom:
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to New York! We have a special guest onboard today.”
There was a collective groan. What now? Were we supposed to sit there for longer?
“We ask that everyone remain seated as I make my way through the cabin to greet this very special passenger.”
Karen perked up for some reason, her shoulders straightening like she’d just been announced as Miss Universe. She looked around with a self-satisfied smile, as if expecting everyone to applaud her.
When the captain came out of the cockpit, we saw a middle-aged man with a calm demeanor and a tired smile. As he saw Karen, he paused.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said. “I need to get past you to greet our special guest.”
“Oh,” she said, looking surprised. “Of course.”
He continued to make her step back down the aisle until they were almost to our row. It was priceless because although she was complying with him, the confusion growing on her face was clear.
“Maybe you should sit down in your seat,” he said.
The rest of us were watching in stunned silence, catching on to what he was doing. I could feel a smile tugging at my lips. The woman next to me was grinning, too.
Finally, the captain stopped at our row, forcing Karen to move into the row and stand at her seat.
The captain looked up at the seat numbers and grinned to himself before speaking.
“Ah, here we are,” he said, his voice booming through the cabin. “Ladies and gentlemen, our special guest is sitting right here in seat 42C. Can we all give her a round of applause?”
For a moment, there was silence. Then someone started clapping, followed by another, and another. Before long, the whole plane erupted into laughter and applause.
The woman’s face turned bright red. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. She just stood there, awkward and humiliated, as the captain took a slight bow and returned to the front.
“That,” I said, leaning back in my seat with a satisfied grin, “was worth the eight hours of this torture.”
The rest of us finally gathered our things and filed out, leaving her to stew in her own embarrassment.
“Jeez,” the woman next to me said. “I’m so glad this is over. I don’t ever want to see that woman again. Maybe we’ll end up next to each other on another flight. Without a Karen this time.”
“Here’s hoping,” I said, and for the first time since the flight started, I genuinely laughed.
What would you have done?
Fоund it in my in-lаws drаwеr whеrе thеy hаd buttеr dishеs еtс Whаt’s this?? Fоrk thеrе fоr sсаlе..
HERE ARE SOME OF THE ANSWERS:
it’s a bone for a glass dog. they were bred in the early 19th century; but short life span made it impossible to keep them viable.
A serving knife rest, so your lovely lace tablecloth will not be stained.
Congrats on keeping the comments clean everyone!
Baby dumbbell. No one likеs a weak baby.
It’s a knife rest. These are not only for the carving knife, but one is at each place setting for resting the table knife after it’s used. It is NOT for the butter knife. The butter knife remains across the bread plate.
My grandmother had two. I don’t know about her background, buy she had many instruments that showed she entertained often.. I have a set of 12 salt cellars with tiny crystal spoons to sift the salt from the cellars over individual food. We used them at Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners.
Today none of my children know how to “play” fancy meals.
Sad tradition. If it won’t get washed in a dishwasher, they won’t keep them in their house.
No talking- no experiences other than food from a paper bag.
To lay you knife on after you cut your meat so you don’t mess up your tablecloth
Knife rest. Kind of likе a chopstick rest
Dirty knife rest keeps table cloth clean.
Lol I have one from my mom, never knew what it was for. Now I do! Thanks
Wow!! Thank you for insights!! So cool to have this group!! The knife rests sure are beautiful!!
Have one just likе this. Resting of the carving knife, if you only have one.\
I’ve never seen one, they are beautiful!
Wow! I thought I knew different types of serving utensils, but I didn’t know this one. Thank you for sharing!
We used t have one likе that, my Mom and my Grandma’s. Salt roller maybe?
I have a set of them
It’s to set a knife holder.
A knife rest is a small, often decorative, object used to keep the blade of a knife from touching the surface of a table or countertop when it’s not in use. They come in various shapes and materials, ranging from simple metal designs to more ornate versions made of silver, porcelain, or other materials. They can add a touch of elegance to a dining table while also serving a practical purpose.
Certainly! Knife rests have been a part of dining culture for centuries, originating in the 17th century in France. Back then, they were primarily made of metal or porcelain and were often adorned with intricate designs, reflecting the opulence of the time.
In addition to their decorative function, knife rests serve a practical purpose. Placing a knife directly on the table can not only damage the table surface but also transfer food residue and germs. Knife rests elevate the blade, preventing contact with the table and maintaining hygiene standards during meals.
Over time, knife rests have evolved in design and materials, catering to various tastes and aesthetics. While traditional designs still remain popular, contemporary versions featuring minimalist styles or innovative shapes have also emerged, appealing to modern sensibilities.
In formal dining settings, such as fine restaurants or elegant dinner parties, the use of knife rests adds a sophisticated touch to the table setting. They are often part of a coordinated set of tableware, complementing the overall aesthetic and enhancing the dining experience.
Beyond their practical and decorative aspects, knife rests also hold historical and cultural significance. They evoke a sense of tradition and etiquette, reminding us of bygone eras when elaborate table settings were an essential part of refined dining.
Whether used for everyday meals or special occasions, the humble knife rest continues to play a subtle yet essential role in dining etiquette and table presentation, embodying a fusion of functionality, beauty, and tradition.
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