During drink service, I ordered ginger ale.
Then I tried lowering my tray table.
Josh’s elbow blocked it.
“Excuse me. I need to put my drink down.”
He barely moved.
“Seriously?” I asked. “Josh, could you give me a little room?”
He sighed.
“Seriously?”
“I’d like to use my tray.”
“You women love making everything a problem.”
I stared at him.
“Needing my tray table isn’t much of a problem.”
“Then stop acting like it is.”
I swallowed my anger. I considered answering, but the flight attendant was waiting with my drink.
I thanked her and held the cup until Josh finally moved.
Steven would’ve laughed at how carefully I’d tried to handle the situation. He used to tease that I’d apologize to a chair after bumping into it.
Once, at a grocery store, I’d bumped into an abandoned shopping cart and apologized.
