to my right. And this converts into a full-sized circular dining table during our American Admiral service, with damask linen and silverware by Fornari, so you dont have to eat off a tray. Again, thatsonly for these center seats. And today well be serving you prime rib carved as you like it at tableside from our American Admiral serving trolley. She was on autopilot now. I shrugged and leaned back, resigned to my fate.
By now first class had pretty much filled up. In the seat to my left was a youngish British executive in a pinch-waisted Cardin blazer and dove-gray trousers that were narrower than the knot in his tie. He was accompanied by a stunning skeletal Nordic model in a white sleeveless top whose pinstripes coordinated nicely with the track marks on her left arm. In the seats in front of them were two Hindus, both in double-knits, one a pale blue LEEsure suit from Lee Jeans, the other a rich brown Trevira polyester with a jaunty yellow acetate scarf at his throat. The two seats in front of me had not yet been filled. The single seat directly to my right was also vacant (maybe I wouldnt have a neighbor on this flight, which would almost compensate for the lack of an upstairs lounge). In the pair of seats on my far right was a couple whose matching convex bellies probably removed the missionary position from any list of their erotic options. In the seats in front of them were two businessmen who did not seem to know each other, one absorbed inThe Terminal Man by Michael Crichton, the other absorbed in paperwork.
Although the plane was still moored to the gate, a sleepy stupor had settled over first class, as if the staff had done everything it was supposed to do and now we were all waiting for … what?
Helen was speaking on the aircrafts wall phone in a suppressed tone. As she was situated by the still-open boarding door, just behind where I was seated in the last row of first class, I could hear bits of what she was saying. Well, weve been set for ten minutes, Marge, the captains waiting on you now… . Definitely just the three, right? Because I have nothing else other than my own seat… . Okay. She spotted me looking at her and flashed me a professional smile, hung up the phone, and called to Kim: Kim, were doing an LMA, if you could help. Suddenly all the stewardesses seemed to gracefully converge on the doorway. Entering the plane was a sharp-faced employee in short sleeves. Fine, were boarding now, he told someone on a walkie-talkie. This way, gentlemen, he added to three men who followed him into the plane.
Soft murmurs of greeting went up from Helen and all of the Kims. The three men entered wearing the sober expressions people adopt when theyre being allowed to bypass a queue. Two of them moved toward the two empty seats directly in front of mine. The third appeared on my immediate right, taking the seat next to mine with an apologetic smile. He had dark golden skin like an autumnal wax pear, with a gentle face and eyes the color of his skin. Eurasian, perhaps a little Spanish, in his late fifties or robust sixties. He wore a spotless but dated black suit. There were droplets of rain beaded on his hair, which would have gleamed with or without the condensation. He folded his hands, looked straight forward, and smiled at the air.
Fidgeting in front of him was a short man, his little shoulders lost somewhere in a navy blazer. He must have been married to a woman he feared, for he was wearing a flowered shirt that he would never have purchased for himself. He summoned Helen with a crook of his finger. A Smirnoff vodka on the rocks? And a pillow?
Helen only half-smiled. Ill bring that to you shortly but were running a bit late, as you may well understand, and we have certain procedures required by federal law.
The older man nodded his understanding but added, The Smirnoff is for him, indicating the man on his left, who looked far too sober to ever want
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