This is exactly why I avoid commercial flights, Blake said loudly to Isabella. The quality of passengers has really declined. The mother turned around exhausted and embarrassed. I'm sorry if we're bothering you. You're not, Victoria said firmly.
She helped the mother lift a car seat. Kids have tough days. We've all been there. Blake rolled his eyes. Some of us have been there.
Others of us travel like adults. Victoria looked at Blake for the first time. She saw a man who'd never been told no, never faced real adversity, never questioned whether he belonged somewhere. Mr. Morrison. Blake Morrison.
He said it like she should recognize the name. Mr. Morrison. I'm sure these parents are doing their best, and I'm sure they'd be more comfortable in the main cabin with the other families. Or maybe you'd be more comfortable flying private if commercial passengers bother you so much. Blake's face flushed.
Excuse me. Nothing, just a suggestion. Richard called Isabella and Blake to the front of the line. They boarded without another glance at Victoria or the struggling family. Ashley Palmer greeted them at the aircraft door with champagne and warm towels.
Ms. Fairmont. Mr. Morrison, welcome aboard. Your seats are ready in first class. Thank you, Ashley. How's the weather looking for our departure?
A bit of a delay, I'm afraid, but nothing that should impact your connections. Isabella and Blake settled into their seats. Blake immediately called for a whiskey. Isabella opened a financial magazine and began reading. When Victoria reached the aircraft door 10 minutes later, Ashley's smile was noticeably less warm.
Boarding pass. Victoria showed her phone. Seat 1A. Ashley's tone suggested this was somehow inappropriate. That's right.
And you're traveling alone? I am. Ashley hesitated. Well, the first class cabin is just to your left. Please keep your bag under the seat in front of you.
The overhead bins are reserved for our premium frequent flyers. Victoria paused. I am a premium frequent flyer. Of course, I just meant The bins fill up quickly. Victoria walked into the first class cabin.
16 seats arranged in a 22 configuration, wide leather recliners, each with its own entertainment screen and power outlets. She'd flown this route dozens of times, but usually in her private jet. Today, she wanted the commercial experience. She found row one and stopped. Blake Morrison sat in seat 1A, typing on his tablet with the confidence of a man who belonged everywhere he chose to be.
"Excuse me," Victoria said politely. Blake held up one finger without looking up. He finished typing a sentence, then another. Victoria waited around them. Other passengers settled into their seats.
Finally, Blake glanced up, his eyes swept over Victoria's casual clothes with obvious disdain. Can I help you? I think you're in my seat. Blake laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound.
I don't think so, sweetheart. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. According to my boarding pass, I'm in seat 1A. According to my status with this airline, I always sit in 1A. Blake turned back to his tablet.
Economy seating is that way. Victoria checked her phone. Seat 1A, United Airlines Flight 847. No mistake, sir. I've been flying this route for years.
I specifically requested this seat and I specifically hold Platinum Diamond status with this airline, which means I get upgraded automatically. But I purchased this seat 3 weeks ago. Blake sighed dramatically. Listen, honey. I don't know how you ended up with first class boarding passes.
Maybe there was a computer glitch. Maybe someone felt sorry for you. But I belong in first class and you belong in economy. It's just how things work. Other passengers were starting to stare.
Isabella Fairmont watched the exchange with interest. This was exactly the kind of situation she'd warned the airline about. Standards mattered. Victoria remained calm. Mr. Morrison, I paid for this seat.
I have a confirmed reservation. I'm asking you politely to move and I'm telling you politely that it's not happening. Blake's voice grew louder. Ashley. Ashley Palmer appeared immediately.
Yes, Mr. Morrison. This person seems confused about her seating assignment. Can you help her find her proper seat? Ashley looked at Victoria. She looked at Blake.
She saw a platinum elite member who flew twice a week versus a woman in a hoodie she'd never seen before. Ma'am, may I see your boarding pass again? Victoria showed her phone. Ashley studied it carefully. “There seems to be some kind of double-booking situation here.” “No,” Victoria said.
“There is no double booking.” I have seat 1A. He's sitting in my seat. Well, Mr. Morrison is already settled and he is one of our most valued customers. And I'm a customer who paid for this specific seat. Ashley put on her most professional smile.
The one flight attendants used when they were about to deliver bad news. I'm going to have to ask you to take another seat. We have a lovely spot available in row 34. It's an exit row with extra leg room. You're moving me to economy.
I'm resolving a seating conflict in the most efficient way possible. Blake smiled smugly. Thanks, Ashley. I appreciate professional service. Victoria looked around the first class cabin.