Muntaha al-Rayyeh
I feel a mixture of remorse and regret when I think back on those days.
It turned out my plane ticket to Paris was in first class. I didn’t know anything about the difference in seating classes on airplanes, and I preferred to limit my questions so as not to look ignorant in front of everyone.
The smell of the airplane was a combination of suitcases and air freshener.
A blonde hostess ushered me to my seat next to the window. I took off my white jacket and placed it on my lap. She asked me if I needed anything. This was new to me – a pretty, well-dressed young woman catering to my every need. I smiled at her and thanked her and before she left me Fawaz arrived and sat down in the seat beside me. He extended his hand politely, so I shook it cheerfully and then busied m
