At JFK Airport, Reggie didn’t have much time to make his connecting flight. He went to the gate at a quick march, without even stopping for a quick lunch or to browse the airport store.
Once on the airplane, he was shocked by the luxury and comfortable first class seat the flight attendant led him to.
“This is your seat, Mr. Weston,” the flight attendant said. She was young, around his own age. “If you want to give me your carryon bag, I’ll stow it for you.”
He felt awkward; this was his first time flying in first class and he didn’t know what he could and couldn’t do.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” she asked, after putting away his bag.
Memories of the previous night, drunk, struck him like a hammer.
“No, thank you,” he said. “I’m a lightweight when it comes to alcohol.”
“Then c
