First Class, Second Chances
“Excuse me, there must be a mistake,” Mrs. Langford said, adjusting her silk scarf with practiced poise. She gestured toward a man settling into a first-class seat beside a young girl. “That man can’t possibly be sitting here.”
The flight attendant offered a polite smile and checked the boarding pass. “No mistake, ma’am. Mr. Carter and his daughter are assigned to seats 2A and 2B.”
Mrs. Langford’s eyes swept over him—jeans, worn sneakers, a frayed backpack. His daughter, perhaps six years old, clutched a juice box, her face bright with excitement.
“This is first class, not a playground,” she muttered under her breath, just loud enough to spark a few curious glances from nearby passengers.
Mr. Carter said nothing. He calmly helped his daughter settle in, handing her a coloring book and crayons. She smiled, delighted—this was her first flight.
As boarding continued, Mrs. Langford leaned toward other passengers, voicing concerns about “lowering standards” and “people who don’t belong.”
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