Please don't spill over onto your fellow passengers
The hiss of the jet bridge, the rain falling and clattering on it from outside and the chatter and general tumult of her fellow passengers all mixed together to form a continuous wall of noise in Abacus Cinch’s ears as she found herself being herded along with them through the departure gate and down the jet bridge towards their waiting plane. She winced, covering her forehead with a hand. God, it was bad enough that she had to be here at close to six in the morning and go through the hell on Earth that was airport security before getting on the plane—did they have to make it less bearable with the amount of noise they were making? It was starting to test her patience, big time.
The day had not started well in the first place. Quite apart from having to get up at such an ungodly hour to make it to the airport in the first place, she had then been forced to endure getting breakfast at an airport food court which was already full of caterwauling children and idiots blaring conversations at full volume into their phones even at a quarter to five in the morning. No blasted consideration, any of them. And then there was the ignominy of having some pimply little twerp of a security officer give her a look of silent contempt as she went through the x-ray machine, like she was his lesser or something. No, today had not started well at all.
Sighing, Cinch tried to force herself to remain positive. Okay, so the day hadn’t gotten off to the best start, but she wasn’t about to let it destroy the entire day for her. She was on the plane at last—all she had to do now was get to her seat. Then, hopefully she could let the sweet, sweet release of sleep overtake her. She just prayed to God that there would be no more screaming brats…
“Welcome aboard, ma'am,” one of the flight attendants said as she examined her boarding pass. She only received a grunt from Cinch as she directed her to her seat. All around, the noise continued as her fellow passengers shoved bags into overhead cabins, examined and re-examined boarding passes for their seat numbers, and generally did her headache no favours at all.
Once Cinch found her seat, she set about the thankless task of wrestling her case into the overhead locker above it, muttering under her breath as she tried to fit it in alongside the luggage belonging to whichever utter imbecile had somehow managed to place it in there at an angle instead of placing it flat like a civilised and considerate human being. Finally, she managed to slam it in. With a huff, she then turned her sights to getting into her seat—according to her boarding pass, it was the middle one.
Then she saw the passenger already occupying the window seat, and that gave her pause.
The passenger in question was a man with electric-blue hair and ivory-white skin… and more pertinently, at least three hundred pounds of ponderous flesh and fat attached to him. The man’s huge gut filled his lap entirely, drooping slightly over his knees, with the bottom of his belly and love handles peeking out from underneath his shirt along with his deep belly button. On top of that, Cinch could see the guy’s moobs through his shirt… as well as how his side fat was bulging over into her seat.
“Oh, perfect…” she muttered. This day just got better and better.
“Hm?” The man looked up at her, a smile crossing his fat features. “Oh, hey! Sorry, I guess I’m taking up some space, huh?”
“Yes, you rather are,” Cinch said plainly.
“Sorry about that,” the fatty continued. “Hang on, let me see if I can…”
The fatty then proceeded to wheeze slightly as he pressed himself up as close to the window side of the plane as he could, while simultaneously pressing his rolls in with a hand. This allowed Cinch just about enough space to get into her seat… whereupon she was promptly encroached upon by side fat once more as her fellow passenger exhaled with a gasp.
“Sorry,” he repeated. “It’s not exactly something I can help. These seats just seem to get smaller and smaller, you know?”
Not something you can help? Maybe you could start by not eating an entire cheesecake for dinner every day, Cinch thought to herself.
“It’s fine,” she said in a prim tone of voice. She looked at the boarding pass sticking out of the fatty’s pocket and could just about make out the name Shining Armour. Perhaps she could file a complaint once they had landed—it was ridiculous to expect people to share standard class with flesh mountains like him. Why couldn’t they make them fork out for a business or first-class seat, for heaven’s sake? Consider it a fat tax.
As she was thinking that, Cinch almost missed the other man standing next to her. She turned around just in time to see another huge gut staring her in the face. She groaned internally. You cannot be serious…
“Ah, ‘scuse me there,” a voice said with a distinct Southern twang. Looking up, Cinch saw that the gut belonged to a rather tall, yellow-skinned fellow in a leather vest, open at the front to show his chest and stomach as if he were some kind of male stripper. He looked, if anything, even fatter than the hamplanet next to her already. Cinch’s heart sank as she realised she was going to be sandwiched between these two for the entire flight.
“Ah… darn these things!” the newcomer said with a grunt as he struggled to squeeze himself into the aisle seat. Cinch found herself pressed up even closer to Shining as fat intruded upon her personal space from both sides. They were close enough to each other that she could feel their bodies expand slightly with each heavy breath. Good Lord, this was intolerable…
“Whoof,” the newcomer sighed as he finally squeezed himself in, part of him spilling over into the aisle, too. “What is it with these seats, anyway? You could hardly fit a doll in ‘em!”
“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Shining agreed. “I’d be flying first-class if I could afford it, not sitting crammed in here like a sardine.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” the newcomer chuckled as he looked at him. “Least I ain’t the only big guy on board. Name’s Braeburn, by the way.” He leaned across Cinch to offer Shining a hand.
“Shining Armour,” Shining offered as he took it. “Good to meet you.”
Cinch gritted her teeth. Were they seriously going to strike up a conversation right on either side of her? That was the absolute last thing her poor, pounding head needed.
Outside, the engines began to increase in pitch as the plane prepared to move away from the terminal. Underneath the driving rain, the plane started to taxi towards the runway.
Alright, Cinch, Cinch told herself. We’re finally moving. Just hold it together for the next couple of hours and you’ll be fine.
The sound of the engines increased to a loud roar as the plane hurtled down the runway, before throwing itself into the grey early-morning sky.
After about half an hour in flight, the situation had become almost tolerable for Cinch. Almost. The two bloated land whales on either side of her still meant she had hardly any personal space to call her own, and she could still feel their squishy flesh pressing into her from both sides, but she found that she was able to ignore it after a fashion. Unfortunately, the two blobs of lard had struck up a friendship with each other, and quite a chatty one at that, which put paid to her hopes for any peace and quiet.
“So, you’re from Canterlot, huh?” Braeburn asked.
“That I am,” Shining replied. “Have been all my life. I grew up there with my sister, Twilight.”
“Twilight? That ain’t Twilight Sparkle, is it?” Braeburn asked.
“Yeah, it is.”
“No kidding! She’s pretty good friends with my cousin, Applejack!”
Cinch found herself practically grinding her teeth to powder at the sound of those names. She urged herself to stay calm—making a scene would do nobody any favours at all.
Next to her, Shining grunted as he fumbled with his fly, before sighing with relief as a bit more belly surged forward. “Ah, that’s better…”
“Looks like I ain’t the only one who keeps myself well-fed,” Braeburn quipped.
“Heh, you can thank my wife,” Shining grinned. “Anyone who tries Cadance’s cooking doesn’t stay thin for long.”
Cinch gritted her teeth even harder at the sound of that name. Oh yes, it was all her cooking, she was sure. A lack of self-control had nothing to do with it all, oh no. Well, she supposed it was a step up from claiming it was genetic.
With both men’s love handles now completely overflowing the armrests, matters were complicated even further when Cinch felt a distinct pressure building up in her bladder. She turned to look at Braeburn—at a conservative estimate, there were about three inches of space between his gut and the back of the seat in front of him. This was not going to be pleasant at all.
“Pardon me,” she said in as polite a tone as she could muster, gesturing to the aisle behind him. The embarrassed look on Braeburn’s face told her that he could tell how awkward the situation was, too.
He sucked his gut in as best he could, giving her perhaps an inch of extra room to manoeuvre. Steeling herself, Cinch got up and proceeded to make her way past him. At his size, she was pretty much forced to clamber over him rather than past him, straddling his belly as she slid her way out, grimacing as she felt his fat against her. She could feel the eyes of her fellow passengers burning into her at the spectacle. It was a relief from both of them when she finally made it into the aisle. She headed to the bathroom with as much dignity as she could muster, while a still-blushing Braeburn tried to ignore the giggles from the seats around him.
The solitude of the bathroom allowed Cinch some time to compose herself. She sat on the toilet bowl, taking several calming breaths, reassuring herself that once the flight landed she would never have to see those two waddlesome piles of sloth and gluttony again. Unfortunately, her being in the bathroom meant that she missed an announcement from the cockpit.
“Folks, ah, looks like we’re about to hit some turbulence. Please remain seated and put your seat belts back on.”
Cinch took another breath as she exited the bathroom, forcing herself to think happy thoughts. All she had to do now was squeeze past that fat cowboy again…
There are some moments in life which are just perfectly set up, as if fate itself is having a laugh at her expense. The fact that the plane hit a particularly violent bit of turbulence just as Cinch made it back to her seat was certainly enough to convince her of that.
With a shriek, Cinch found herself pitching forward. In the blink of an eye, her world suddenly became very dark, as well as rather fleshy. At the same time, both Shining and Braeburn gawked wordlessly at the woman who now lay wedged between them and the seat in front of them, her face buried in Shining’s gut. Her legs kicked comically as she let loose a string of muffled expletives.
“Oh jeez, hang on!” Shining grabbed hold of her and pulled as hard as he could, succeeding in freeing her face from his flesh.
Cinch looked at him with what could only be described as murder in her eyes.
“Um…” Shining smiled nervously. “Sorry?”
Back down on the ground, the headset around an air traffic controller’s head burst to life. “Omaha tower, this is Oceanic Airlines flight Oscar Charlie seven-one-niner, we have a situation, over.”
The air traffic controller pressed the transmit button on her headset. “Copy, Oscar Charlie seven-one-niner, what is the nature of your situation, over?”
“Omaha tower, requesting clearance for emergency landing to remove an unruly passenger. Ah, she’s already assaulted two other passengers and is currently threatening a stewardess with a plastic fork and demanding we land immediately, over.”
“Roger that, Oscar Charlie seven-one-niner. Understand your request for emergency landing. Standby for clearance, over.”
“Copy that, Omaha tower,” the pilot said. From the other side of the cockpit door, he could still hear that middle-aged woman ranting.
“…no no, you stay down, cowboy! You stay down, or I swear I’ll give you another thrashing! You hear me?!”
“Uh, request law enforcement on scene for our arrival, tower,” he added. He shook his head. Some people just couldn’t handle air travel.
END
