"It is against the rules."

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This gem from a FB friend :joy:

The final leg of my flight to Poland. I have been in transit for 18 hours, two previous plane changes and layovers. I’m going from Frankfurt to Warsaw on Lufthansa. The plane is delayed. Finally, the passengers are taken out to the plane on the tarmac in one of those huge accordion buses. I am in the second of two buses. As it turns out, I am the last passenger on the plane. My seat is on the 7th row of a 737 (yes, this is not lost on me). I have a normal sized backpack and a smallish rollerboard. I stuff the backpack under the seat and search for a place for the rollerboard in the overhead bins. There is no space. I am the only passenger not seated.

I have moved most of the way to the back of the plane searching. There is a German woman, older than I am (which is saying something) serving as flight attendant in the rear of the plane. She is fifteen or twenty rows further back. You must imagine her lines in a thick German accent. She speaks loudly in a scolding and condescending tone.

She: “You must put dat unter your seat.”

I: “My backpack is already under my seat.”

She, impatiently gesturing a putting-unter motion: “All bags must be unter your seat.”

I: “Mein Rucksack ist schon da.”

This was my mistake --daring to address her in German with an American accent, as if she couldn’t understand English. My tone of voice was plaintive protest. I admit I was repaying her tone of voice, and she knew why I had done it. But before you judge me, recall that she had just spoken to me as if I couldn’t understand my OWN language, in front of a lot of people.

She, raising her voice, and answering me in English: “Oh, zo you haff TWO pieces of luggage?”

I: “Yes, a backpack and this.” (indicating smallish rollerboard)

The seated passengers have all gone silent and are craning their necks when she speaks, then looking back at me. I can see no less than thirty heads doing this. The 100 behind me are no doubt craning as well.

She, loudly: “Are you in business class?” (with knowing doubt)

I: “No.”

She, as if making an announcement: “Economy class passengers are allowed only one piece of luggage.”

I, flustered, not exactly pissed off but getting there: “This is my third plane change and no one said anything until now.”

She, still loudly: “It is against the rules.”

I, clearly becoming problematically upset: “What am I supposed to do? Are you going to take this from me?”

You all understand that at least a third of the economy passengers have the same luggage combination I have. So I have called her on her unwarranted abuse, and she knows that the next thing I will say is along the lines of “will you also take away the rollerboards of everyone here with a backpack too?” while I indicate overhead bins brimming with rollerboards exactly like mine.

But she is German. Defeat comes with resistance. I am reminded that the Nazis blew up the large statue of Chopin on the way out of Warsaw.

She, a bit quieter, but firmly: “You must go to business class to see if there is any free space there.”

I know how to deal with an assigned walk of shame. I turn curtly without a word and head briskly toward business class. Seeing that she has now really lost the sympathy of every passenger, she lets me get half way to business class and then calls me to turn around.

She: “Hier, der is room hier.”

I turn, she is clearing a space in a bin --over thirty rows behind my seat (which means I will be the last person off the plane).

That brings me to the difference between what I should have done and what I did do. A British man would have known what to do, and that is why the British are impossible to defeat in a contest of insinuated insults. A British man would have studied her pityingly for two seconds, precisely, and said, “I don’t want to trouble you further,” and continued to business class.

Like an idiot, I obeyed and she won.

So I stewed all the way to Warsaw, rehearsing what I would say to her when only she and I were left on the plane (because I had to wait until all had deplaned to fetch my lonely rollerboard). And, knowing that she would be smiling, what did I decide to say? Multiple choice:

A. “I’m glad I’m not your husband, if you have one.”
B. “I wish I were British.”
C. “Have a nice day.”

Well?

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