The Upgrade

The Upgrade

“Ears Up. American Airlines passenger York; please return to the desk at Gate 17. American Airlines passenger York'; return to the desk at Gate 17.”

Jillianne York had just settled into a chair in the corner of Gate 17 when she heard the announcement. “I must be the only York on this flight. No first name.” She gathered her belongings and walked slowly to the desk. The population in the area had greatly increased in the last ten minutes and she had to zig-zag to avoid traffic. “What can they possibly need?” The check-in at the terminal had been quick; she had a boarding pass; confirmation of checked luggage.

There was a short line at the desk and Jillianne rearranged the items she had been carrying as she waited. She stepped to the desk when the clerk was clear. “I'm Jillianne York. You paged me.”

The clerk looked up and smiled. “Yes, indeed, we did. We need to change your seating.”

“To what?”

“Well, we don't have to change your seat; but it would be only fair to do so.”

“Did I win a prize or something? Better seat?”

A soft chuckle. “Not exactly won a prize. It's just that we think you would be happier on a long flight if we move you. Villanova's Pep Squad just checked in. They are going to Portland for national competition or something. There are fifteen rows of Pep Squad and you are right in the middle of them.”

Jillianne took a step back. “You have to be kidding. When I reserved this seat there were no other seats reserved.”

“Right. And then the Pep Squad swooped in and 'viola' you're surrounded. It's going to get noisy in that area. No doubt about it. You're a regular flyer and, even if you weren't, we would like to relocate you. There is, however, only one seat available on this flight. We'd like to move you to First Class, seat 4B. No extra charge; this is an airline decision. Are you in? Or should we sell you ear plugs?”

Jillianne laughed. “I'm in. I used to be part of a Pep Squad.”

The clerk asked for her boarding pass and then, through the magic of airport security, she gave Jillianne a new boarding pass. “I am sure you will enjoy the flight to Portland. Oh, there's a meal involved. If you make your selection now, no one will ever know we moved you.” She didn't laugh out loud, but Jillianne understood. She looked at the menu offered her, made a check mark and asked, “Does this 'more quiet' seat come with a free alcoholic beverage?”

“It sure does. In fact, you could probably have two. However, I doubt it will be offered early in the flight. Unless you want a mimosa with your chosen breakfast.” Jillianne nodded and the agent checked another box.

Jillianne took the new boarding pass. “Thank you so much for your consideration. I truly appreciate the upgrade. I believe we'll hear the Pep Squad a bit in first class. Just not at headache levels. Didn't they come with chaperons?”

“Ah, yes, the chaperons. No fools these folk. All six of them are in business class.”

Both Jillianne and the clerk laughed. Jillianne went back to her seat in the corner of the gate. The chair was still empty. Maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad after all.

When the call to start boarding came, Jillianne smiled as she saw the economy line swell as young people in blue and white gathered, whispering among themselves. She was fairly sure the whispering was nerves more than anything. Once seated, she could only imagine the clamor of voices throughout the plane. How kind of the crew to give her an upgrade. The first class line moved swiftly. Boarding passes were scanned without a word other than an occasional thank you.

Seat 4B was an aisle seat. That was about the only thing Jillianne ever asked for when flying. Being barely five feet tall, it was a real hassle for her to leave a window seat and move in front of people to get to the aisle. And she usually had to do that at least once on every flight she ever took regardless of how long or short it was. Her Dad says it is a form of nerves – much better than getting sick all over your fellow passengers. She was sure he was joking when he said it. But, thinking about it later, it was a truth.

Seat 4A was occupied by the time Jillianne reached 4B. A man, who looked about her age, was just settling in as she arrived. He glanced up at her and smiled but said nothing. He looked familiar. Just a quick glance as she sat down – who does he look like? I know that face. Either that or it is an uncanny resemblance of someone I've met before. Who?

Never having been in First Class before as a passenger, Jillianne didn't know if she should introduce herself. “I won't.” She thought. “If it is customary, than he can introduce himself.”

Other than a wider seat and more leg room, first impression of First Class was not that impressive. Maybe there is a bit more head room as well. Maybe. She leaned back and listened to the stewardess go through the usual safety narrative. Early morning flights, like this one, were more casual – or so it seemed. Things went quickly and smoothly. The seat belt sign came on as the plane pulled away from the gate and began to taxi to the end of the runway. There were three planes ahead that she could see. Soon, the plane was at the starting point of the runaway.

Jillianne had long ago learned how to not grip the seat arms and just relax. She noted the couple across the aisle were both quite visibly nervous. Maybe they aren't used to First Class either. Maybe they aren't used to flying. But a friend of her Dad's told her a long time ago that the seat arm rests didn't have any influence on the plane's take off. So, gripping them tightly didn't help in the least. She smiled at that memory – she was maybe seven years old. They were all going to visit Grams and Gramps. Even Uncle Jay, the man who told her, was going. She learned much later he wasn't even her uncle. But he was smart and she's been comfortable ever since when flying.

Suddenly she realized. The man next to her, in 4A, looks just like Uncle Jay. Just like him. Older, yes. And he seems to be tall – like Uncle Jay.

Jillianne took out a new Irv Segal novel. She had to occupy herself and quit looking at the man in 4A.

A few minutes later, the stewardess stopped and asked her if she would like her mimosa before breakfast was served. The man in 4A said, “Mimosa? Are you celebrating something?'

“No, but Adele at the gate desk suggested it was a good idea. The morning has been rather unusual and she thought I'd enjoy it.”

He said to the stewardess, “I'd like a mimosa too. Before breakfast is served.”

Jillianne nodded, “Yes, before is better.”

The stewardess continued her survey with a few other passengers.

“So, tell me why the gate desk would be advising mimosas today.”

“Apparently, after I had reserved my seat, the entire Pep Squad of Villanova made reservations that put me right in the middle of them, all 15 rows. The desk staff thought as there was one other empty seat on the flight, I should be moved so I don't sue the airlines for hearing loss, or something.”

He laughed. “And then you get here and think I am someone you know.”

“Oh, no, that's not it. You strongly resemble someone I do know.”

“Well, tell me all about him so I can prove I'm not him.”

“I know you aren't him. He drove me to the airport. But after seeing you – well, he once had a little boy and I thought maybe you were that little boy.”

“Okay. Tell me what you know about the little boy. Don't want to deny something too soon.” And then, he had the nerve to laugh. Or was it nervous laughter?

“He was born on October 1, 1994. His name was Jayson Erik Osbeck.” Jillianne was mid-sentence and the man held up his hand.

“Stop. Stop. How do you know this? That's my name; my birth date.”

“His father and my father met when he and I were born on the same day at a military hospital. They became close friends. They were deployed together to Iraq a few years later. They were caught in some sort of fire fight and ended up in a military hospital somewhere in Germany. My Dad was released and came home. His Dad wasn't ready for release. My Dad and Mom tried to find his mother and the little boy. But a year had passed since the incident in Iraq and they decided his mother must have relocated. No one knew if she had been told anything more than my mother had been told. At first, Mother thought my Dad was killed. She had tried to find her then. Maybe his mother thought that her husband was killed and she moved. Dad could never find her, or the little boy. And he jumped through a lot of hoops looking. That's how I know.”

The man in 4A was crying. “That's who I am. My friends call me Jay. Mother had been told he was killed. We went to California to my grandparents.”

Jillianne dug her phone out of her purse. “Your Dad has driven me to the airport quite often since I took this new job. And every time he says, “Take my picture with the car so you know who to look for when you come home.” It's a big joke between us. Look. Here is the photo I took this morning.” She handed him the phone. His tears fell on the photo as he looked at it.

After several minutes, he blew his nose. Then he said, “You're right. I do look like my Dad. Oh lord, how do I tell my Mother? She's never remarried. She always said she was a one-man woman. Can you transfer this to my phone? She may be meeting me at the airport. Oh lord. This is too much. It's been over twenty years.”

Just then the stewardess arrived with 2 mimosas. “Did you decide what you are celebrating?”

“Yes, we have. Thank you very much. Maybe we'll have another mimosa after breakfast. It's a really big celebration.” He was smiling even though his face was still streaked with tears.

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