Did we even ask for it? The flight attendant at the counter had the kind of smile on her face that stretched to the corners of her eyes. My mom told it to me as we walked down the tunnel, and my dad explained it again when I didn’t understand. We were flying business class that trip.
You already know I reclined my seat over and over again on that plane, the full 15 hours it took to reach our layover flight. Tapped through the seat TV ferociously, peaked over the divider at the guy on his laptop. There happened to be exactly 5 tickets available on that flight in business class. Oh, we were proper American, polite, well-dressed in JCPenney’s clothing. Such an astonishing upgrade, offered at no cost whatsoever.
2012 was the last time I went to Pakistan. These days, my relatives tell me it’s a place that’s best left behind. Corruption, crime. I don’t know, looking through my fishbowl. We’re in the same water now, and if Pakistan really was just some country on a different tectonic plate, I wouldn’t care. I’d say thank you to that flight attendant a thousand times, and if I could keep Pakistan as a keychain on my suitcase, well, you know I would.
