By Ishita Gupta
Flying back from Detroit to New York City, I glanced at my boarding pass. “Seat 1C” I said to my sister, high-fiving her. That’s row #1!” I’d always marveled at people up front, they seemed to say, “We’re cool. Our experience is better.” I also hated rough air and knew if you sat up front you felt less turbulence. Being close to the pilot made me feel safe. When we sat down I felt actual pride.
I didn’t see a seat-pocket in front of me, so I slid my notebook under my seat. It flew out of reach. “The seats are bigger,” I thought and put down my purse. “Ma’am, you need to put that overhead.” I put my bag up top and turned on my tunes. “Put your electronics away.” But I needed music at take-off and usually hid it behind the person in front. Up here I had no cover.