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Returning from her trip to the airplane bathroom winded and red in the face, first class passenger Margot Henry confirmed that she had overheard whispers of a coming revolution from the passengers in coach.
“They’re coming for us,” said Henry, inciting the twelve members of the Embraer E170 bourgeoisie to remove their complimentary noise-canceling headsets and hold an emergency council. “A voice near 24B spoke of a proletarian uprising. We must quell this insurgence immediately or we may all be dead before we touch down in St. Louis.”
Henry informed the group of the economy class passengers’ growing antagonism toward the extravagant legroom and extra-wide leather seats to be had in the front of the plane, claiming that she even witnessed one 40-year-old father in an isle seat angrily crush his free pretzels in his calloused, working-class hand as she passed by.
“One of the radicals, a mere teenager, was reading ‘Rights of Man’ to the surrounding rows,” said Henry, as real estate mogul Velma Diaz picked nervously at her mandarin roast chicken. “They’re calling each other citizen.”
“God help us,” said first-class passenger Rory Thomlin, downing another glass of free in-flight spirits.
Henry shared what she could remember of a speech she overheard near the rear left exit row. “They were saying the pilot is a despot,” said Henry. “They said something like, ‘This great perversion of justice which so unsympathetically allots superior ease of boarding and unboarding to the aristocracy must come to an end. And those complicit in our oppression, those who have annulled our very right to decent air travel, who have pacified us with meager rations of pretzels and cookies, they will answer to the swift and powerful hand of the working class. Together, citizens, we will prevail.’”
According to Henry’s reports, many coach passengers could be seen tearing up their SkyMall magazines in protest, saying they would no longer endorse the notion that they would someday be able to afford the catalogue’s unnecessary and overpriced products under the current state of social and economic immobility. “To indulge in such a fantasy is to sacrifice my sovereignty on this two-hour flight,” whispered auto mechanic Terry Vern as Henry dried her hands.
“If the steerage want war, it’s war they’ll get!” shouted burly business magnate Carl Swanson, urging the stewardesses to discontinue service to the rear-end passengers and ignore all assistance lights. “These disobedient mongrels will pay for their ingratitude. Let’s see how long this revolution can survive on an empty stomach.”
Surveying the less affluent passengers, Henry confirmed with horror that the plebeians were stirring in the aisles despite the clear illumination of the fasten seatbelt sign.
“Close the dividing curtain!” said Henry. “They’re no longer heeding the pilot’s orders! Barricade the first class cabin with seat cushions and carry-ons! Move!”
“God save us all,” added Thomlin, turning off his DIRECTV episode of “It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia.”
At press time, the revolution was narrowly avoided as the coach passengers discovered religion.
