A First-Class Woman
Watching first-class people
Get first-class service
Directly in front of me
To weary discontent
In my heart
In negative mode
Do I want to leave it behind?
In July, D and I were in our airline seats, waiting for take-off to Amsterdam. We were seated in the row just behind first class. It was impossible not to notice the service they were receiving. First class!
I opened my writing notebook and recorded how I felt just then. What you see above is what came out.
The question at the end surprised me. So did the bitter unhappiness in my heart as I compared my seating arrangement with those just a few feet ahead of me.
In the not so distant past, situations like this offered juicy opportunities to feel morally superior. I almost enjoyed suffering in silence as one of the good people on the short, supposedly cheap end of airline service.
Yet I didn’t like how I felt when I wrote this poem. True, I was nearly dead on my feet and exhausted from the effort of packing into the wee hours of the morning. But now, added to that was the seeming reinforcement of my status as one of the lesser lights on the plane.
Well, I’m not a lesser light; nor is anyone else–including you. Yet the question remains: Do I want to leave behind this weary discontent? I’m about to get an opportunity to find out.
Tomorrow D and I take off for a mini-adventure. It will doubtless offer multiple opportunities for comparisons that could sour me.
Instead of going there, I’m going to practice being who I am right now. Strong, grateful and happy to be alive. A first-class woman!
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 November 2016
Photo found at godsavethepoints.com – one of multiple photos documenting 1st-class service in the 1950s! Take a look and weep….