“You’re going to need a seat belt extender,” the flight attendant said to me. Though it’s been years, her words still occasionally echo in the back of my mind. Unfortunately, there was no seat belt extender on board that day, which meant the flight would be delayed, as one had to be secured from inside the terminal.
As I waited for the flight attendant to track down a seat belt extender, I felt my body temperature rise with each passing minute. It felt like an entire plane full of angry people was staring at the overweight man delaying where they needed to go. When the seat belt extender finally arrived, the embarrassment was overwhelming.
I felt tears trickling slowly and then more rapidly. Since my first trip to Kenya when I was 12, I’ve loved traveling. Though I was raised in Milwaukee, my mother sent my brother and me to live with my aunt in Mombasa for two years.
That experience gave me a taste of travel, and I wanted more of it — I’ve had the travel bug ever since. But that embarrassing seat belt fiasco on the plane was unfortunately not an isolated incident. Time after time, I was , and the seat belt wouldn’t click because of my belly.
I had to whisper a pleading request, praying the plane had a seat belt extender and not wanting other passengers to hear me when I asked. Unfortunately, the planes often have an extender on board. On half of those flights, we were delayed for hours as the flight crew waited for one to be sent.
Each time, it felt like ever.