Annoyed at having to sit in a coach seat while the plane sat motionless on the tarmac waiting for a break in the weather, Michael looked at his watch once again. It had been an hour since he’d boarded the plane. Of all times to not get bumped up to first class, he thought.
Michael had been away from home for almost three weeks on this trip and missed his family and sleeping in his own bed. His total travel time from Bangalore to Chicago would be just over 25 hours, including a 6 1/2 hour layover in New Delhi, assuming an on-time departure. But that ship had sailed, Michael thought, chuckling to himself at his mixed metaphor.
After another half hour, the dreaded announcement came. “This is the captain speaking,” the pilot said. “I’m sorry folks, but this flight is being canceled due to the weather. Please see the gate agent about alternative flights to your destination once we taxi back to the terminal.”
“I hate this fucking job,” Michael said loud enough to turn heads.
Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers from Priceless Joy. Photo credit: Yarnspinnerr.