“I asked for a 747, a plane with four engines. She lied to me, the woman on the phone. Look at this plane; it’s nothing. I don’t even know what it is.”
A flight to New York gets complicated.
I reached into the forward seat pouch and found the aircraft’s info card. “It’s a 767,” I said.
“A 767? What kind of plane is that? Just two engines. I should have flown directly to London on Virgin. They have 747s.”
Although he was flying to London, his accent sounded continental, southern, coastal maybe. Maybe a Slav, maybe a Mediterranean Arab. In his early sixties, wearing a floral scent, and carrying an old-fashioned briefcase.