Business Class

By R.J. Tennyson

Agnes was lying in the skybed of the Airbus A-380, on route to Rome. The skybed’s soundproof pod enclosed her, giving the privacy she needed. Sixty-years to the day from her first flight and she’d finally made it to the pointy end of the plane.

Her first flight had also been to Rome. Agnes was hooked as soon as she felt the shudder of the spinning propellers. It was 1956 and Agnes and Jim were on their honeymoon. The plane was a DC-7 that hopped all the way to Europe. It stopped often to refuel – and restock its liquor cabinets. They were the days when ‘hostesses’ wore white gloves and cabins were full of cigarette smoke.

The newlyweds honeymooned in Europe for three months. Agnes was so overawed by the flying experience that Jim bought her a ‘flight journal’. She logged and detailed every flight she took for the next sixty years: dates, times, destinations, airlines, classes. For sixty years the class was always economy, coach… cattle. Today, the one hundred and forty-fifth flight recorded in the journal, she was lying in business class. Agnes had finally made it to the pointy end.

Jim and Agnes planned the trip together. St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, climbing the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence, a romantic gondola ride down the Grand Canal in Venice. Sadly, that was before the doctor found the hard lump on Jim’s testis. For months Jim ignored the backache, the coughing and the breathlessness; but the lump couldn’t be ignored. Treatment was sought; but it failed. Jim passed away nine months before their sixtieth wedding anniversary.

At first Agnes didn’t want to make the trip without him. Flying without him won’t be the same, she tried to convince herself. We have always flown together. It just doesn’t feel right to do it without him. But as time wore on she grew to realise that making the trip by herself was the best way to honour Jim; to honour their life together.

So there she lies at the pointy end; for the first time.

For the past sixty years each time the plane touched down and the seatbelt sign was extinguished, Agnes was the first one out of her seat. She wanted to disembark as quick as possible so they could start exploring. She would grab Jim’s hand and drag him down the aisle. “Come on, Darling. Lets not waste a moment,” she’d say.

But not today.

Today Agnes was the last passenger to disembark.

***

Two men in orange overalls made their way to Agnes’ seat. “What happened?” one asked in broken english. “I’m not sure,” the cabin supervisor replied. “We went to serve her a cup of tea and she was… she was dead. We moved her from economy to a skybed in the pointy end for privacy.”

As the three stared solemnly down at Agnes’ body they didn’t notice her discarnate spirit… dragging Jim down the aisle.