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As soon as the black lady took her seat and Barry took his, the French rapper stormed back to Barry’s side. But this time, she came with a different plan.
Her attention was on the black lady as she asked something in French.
“Oui.” The black lady nodded.
The French ‘rapper’ lit up like a Christmas tree. She proceeded to drop a whole essay of French gibberish (well, that’s what it sounded like to Barry) on the black lady. As she spoke, she kept pointing at Barry, then at a seat in the middle aisle.
After listening to her, the black lady turned her attention to Barry. “She says that she’d like to trade seats with you.”
Barry sighed in relief. “So that’s what she was saying!”
“Yeah.” The black lady’s eyes danced with humor as she continued, “Her seat is there.” She pointed to the middle seat in the middle aisle, one row behind them. “Apparently, your seat is closer to the front, and she wants to be among the first to get off when we land.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Barry scoffed. “This is an eight-hour flight. No matter where she sits, she’ll still get to Michigan at the same time as all of us. Also, that’s a middle seat. Why would I trade my aisle for a middle seat when I even paid extra for it?”
The black lady chuckled. “Hey, I’m just the messenger. Put away the pistol.”
Barry pleaded, “Could you please tell her that I paid extra for this seat?”
“Cool.” The black lady turned to the French ‘rapper’ and conveyed his message.
A rational person would’ve understood and bowed in defeat. The rapper did not.
After some rapid fire exchanges, the black lady came back to Barry with, “She says that she can’t sit in the middle seat because she has agoraphobia. Side-note; that’s a damn lie cause if she had it, she wouldn’t be on this plane. Also, she says that the people sitting beside her are fat, and she’ll be uncomfortable.”
Barry was outraged. “So, her solution is to make me uncomfortable?”
The black lady laughed again. “I guess.”
Barry tried to think of what to say to make the French woman aware of just how ridiculous she was being. But by this time, they’d attracted the attention of a male flight attendant.
“Hello.” The flight attendant asked with a hint of a French accent. “Is there a problem?”
Both Barry and the French ‘rapper’ proceeded to explain the situation from their points of view and in their respective languages. As any rational person would, the flight attendant took Barry’s side and tried to explain to the French lady why her request was unreasonable. But the French lady did not get it… at all.
The flight attendant spent the next few minutes trying to drum reason into the ‘rapper’. From his frustrated expression, it was clear that it wasn’t working.
Barry felt guilty for dragging the poor man into this drama. It was just a seat… certainly not worth ruining someone else’s day over. Barry offered, “If she wants my seat so bad, let her have it. It’s okay.”
Relief filled the flight attendant’s expression. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah.” Barry stood.
“Hold up.” The black lady grabbed his arm and urged him to sit back down. “You’re not doing that.” To the flight attendant, she said, “Let me fix this.”
What followed was the most impressive show of de-escalation that Barry had ever witnessed. It was like watching a pro hostage-negotiator in action.
The black woman and the French lady engaged in a two-minute, rapid-fire exchange that climaxed with a sharp gasp from the French lady. Barry had no idea what the black lady had said, but it must’ve been shocking because even the flight attendant winced and threw in a stunned, “Oh snap!”.
Meanwhile, the black lady was just smiling.
The French lady said something in an outraged tone. But the black lady was ready for her and threw another grenade that had her clutching her imaginary pearls, while the flight attendant held back a laugh.
In the end, the French lady flounced off in a fit of rage.
Barry gaped at his seatmate. “What in the word did you say to her?”
The black lady grinned. “Oh, I just shared a bit of my common sense with her.”
