Jet Fuel

Whenever I take a flight, I prefer to relax with a good book for the duration. The last thing I need is a disruption.

The man next to me had his own system. It involved complaining to the flight attendants about every little annoyance. First it was the seating assignment, then the lack of proper meal service, unless he was willing to pull out his credit card.

Spoiler alert: he wasn't.

The worst part was all of his bellyaching had to go through me, since I'd paid for the aisle.

My big mistake was politely asking him to stop whining.

Spoiler Alert

“There’s, like, a huge pile of packages out here, did you know?”“Get out of the way!” I shout, toppling my children like bowling pins.“What’s in there, Mom? Is it for us?” ask my mosquitoes.“None of your business!”My stomping covers the clamorous clattering of toys as I drag the heavy stack upstairs. I cram the boxes in my closet and hide them behind rarely-worn dresses. An old blanket covers the teetering mountain.“Can we see?”“No! Don’t come in here!”Slamming the door shut, I wonder if they might have guessed that their Christmas presents had arrived.From Guest Contributor Sarah Czarnecki

Sarah is a dog-walking, fast-knitting, list-making Sconnie who sometimes writes.