Clark bought first-class tickets for himself and his mother, putting me in economy with our kids. I didn’t accept it passively. Instead, I made sure his “luxury” trip had enough turbulence to teach him something he wouldn’t forget.
Tell me about Clark, Sophie. You know the type—dedicated to work, stressed out, and certain his job is the center of the world? I know work is hard, but parenting is too. Clark excelled this time. This is unbelievable, so buckle up.
Last month, we scheduled a Christmas visit to his family. The goal was to relax, bond, and make memories with the kids. Straightforward, right?
Clark offered to fly, which helped lessen my load. Naively, I trusted him.
Big error.
While carrying our toddler and diaper bag at the airport, I casually said, “Clark, honey, where are we sitting?” The place was full of families, crying babies, and suit-clad businesspeople racing to their gates.
He didn’t look up from his phone. He murmured, “Oh, about that…”
I noticed something was wrong immediately. “What is ‘about that’?”
Clark put his phone away and gave me his sheepish grin, which I dreaded.
“Well,” he hesitantly said, “I got Mom and me first-class seats. You know she hates long flights, and I need solitude to rest.”
I watched him for the punchline that never came.
“So, let me get this straight,” I remarked sharply. “I’m back in economy with the kids while you and your mom are in first class?”
Clark shrugged serenely. “Come on, Soph, only a few hours. All will be well. Don’t fuss.”
Before I could react, his mother Nadia entered with designer bags. “Clark! You’re there. Are we ready for our wonderful flight? Smiling like she won the lotto, she said.
While wrangling two angry kids and developing a fury in my thoughts, I saw them saunter toward the first-class lounge.
“Oh, they’ll have their ‘luxury’ experience, alright,” I mumbled, planning a devious scheme.
When we boarded, first class and economy were clearly different. Clark and Nadia were enjoying champagne in their comfortable seats while I wrestled a carry-on into the overhead bin.
“Mommy, I want to sit with Daddy!” our five-year-old complained.
Forced a smile. Dear, not this time. Daddy and Grandma are in a nice flying seat.”
“Why can’t we sit there?”
Because Daddy’s special.”
“What do you mean, Mommy?”
“Nothing, honey. Buckle up.”
Clark sat in his seat, seemingly unconcerned, as I settled the youngsters. Then I remembered: I had his wallet.
I sneaked it from his carry-on at security while he and Nadia were busy. Clark seldom pays attention when talking to his mom, so it was easy.
My mischievous smile crept on my face in economy. Fun was about to begin.
Two hours into the journey, the kids were resting and I was enjoying some rare calm. In first class, I noticed a flight attendant serving excellent food. I watched Clark order the most expensive alternatives with premium booze, enjoying like a king.
“Would you like anything from the snack cart?” another attendant inquired.
I said, “Just water, thanks,” smiling slyly. “I feel like watching a show.”
After 30 minutes, Clark started patting his pockets, panicking. When the flight attendant demanded payment, he raged. Despite not hearing the conversation, the tension was clear.
Finally, Clark returned to the economics, looking desperate and embarrassed.
Crouching next to me, he muttered, “Soph,” urgently. “I lost my wallet. Do you have cash?
Pretending concern, I said, “Oh no! That’s dreadful! You need how much?
“Uh…about $1500,” he murmured.
I nearly choked on water. Fifteen hundred? Did you order a diamond-crusted steak?
“Soph, this isn’t funny!” hissed. “Do you have it?”
I pretended to search my purse. “Let’s see… I have $200. Will that help?
He lost face. I suppose it’s better than nothing. Thanks.”
I shouted, “Doesn’t your mom have her card?” as he left. Perhaps she can help!”
His terror expression was priceless. He knew asking Nadia meant admitting defeat.
The rest of the flight was comically embarrassing. Clark and Nadia sat silently, their first-class experience tarnished. I felt victorious in my economy seat.
Clark returned one more time as we descended.
Are you sure you didn’t notice my wallet, Soph?
Pretending innocence, I said, “No, honey. Maybe you left it home?
Sighing, he stroked his hair. “This is hell.”
To show sympathy, I patted his arm. “At least you had first class, right?”
That look might have curdled milk.
Clark was livid when Nadia disappeared into the restroom after landing.
“I can’t believe I lost my wallet,” he repeated ten times.
“Are you sure it didn’t fall out during a fancy meal?” I joked.
“Very funny, Soph.”
As we exited the airport, I zipped my purse, keeping Clark’s wallet inside. After rewarding myself, I’d return it.
Travelers, if your spouse deserts you for first class, remember: inventive justice goes far! After all, life is a shared experience, first class or economy.
