Also you immediately jump back into the relative past (i.e telling us what he had just done, not what he was doing ‘now’) and then go into exposition about more distant past (his trade and it’s ups&downs). Finally we end with more minutae of airflight and the impression that our man may be a bit of a dirtball.

All in all there’s no hook - what question am I left with that will haul me to the next paragraph?

I don’t want to be too negative. Line by line, the writing is decent. For me though, you’ve not used those lines to build an effective start to a story.

Cheers,
Len

In spite of exceeding the 13 line limit - I still failed to grab your collective interest.

The nose was just the tip of what I wrote as a titillating iceberg.

Sarah, Madelein and Daniel,
I particularly appreciate your constructive crits.

Thanks again! Great site - thanks for being there.

He had managed to get bulkhead-aisle seating for an extra bit of legroom, directly in front of the curtained-off stewardess station and lavatories. But, still.

If he’s in a bulkhead seat, he’s not in the row directly in front of the kitchen, since that would be either the last row of the business section or the last row of economy, and a bulkhead seat is the first row of a section.

I also did not care about his beverage preferences and saw nothing about this story to make it either fantasy or SF. Now, if the story is neither, that’s not a problem. However, if it is intended to be fantastic, you should give us at least one fantastic thing to start with.

Seaboe

I’m not trying to be dismissive; I mean that literally. The exposition about the tomato juice and vodka was mildly entertaining, but by the end of the first page, I’d like to have a hint of what sort of dire problem faces this man, other than trying to extricate his nose from someone’s cleavage. He’s not likeable or even particularly interesting, so I’m not going to spend one more minute in his company unless you give me a good reason to. And such a reason is currently absent from this opening.

Sorry!

Prose-wise, that dirty great long list could use some structure. For example, ‘The tomato juice was for the electrolytes. He didn’t trust airline ice, and the vodka, well the vodka was because he hated Economy Class’ needs looking at. Mainly it’s the full stop after ‘electrolytes’ - ‘he didn’t trust airline ice’ is still to do with that, but it looks like it’s to do with the vodka, which makes no sense. Here’s my suggestion: ‘The tomato juice was for the electrolytes; he didn’t trust airline ice. And the vodka? Well, the vodka was because he hated Economy Class’ - that semi-colon could also be an em-dash, and I’d suggest having ‘was just because’ instead of ‘was because’.

Would I read on? I’m not really into the story, but I was prepared to give it a chance until Charlie started sniffing cleavage. Oh, and I hadn’t noticed the change from Charles to Charlie, but Sarah’s right, you need to decide on one and stick with it.

To Madeleine: ‘Clive had no idea that dropping the crystal vase on Lady Bumbrington’s head would lead him into the greatest danger he had ever faced’ - if I opened a book and saw that as the opening line (and the next few lines carried on in the same tone), I would buy that book instantly. Please write it for me, lol.

I’m more bothered, as the owner of breasts, by the labored business of finding his nose in his neighbor’s cleavage. Get in, get out, examine his feelings after he’s extricated himself from the embarrassing situation. Right now the owner of the breasts becomes a prurient sight-gag (well, written gag) and that does nothing for me. Again, as the owner of breasts; YMMV.

Be careful with closing those clauses you’ve set off with em-dashes: sometimes you need parentheses instead (that’s what you did with “no ice” the second time, and it avoids the confusion of no ice and coffee, which is a bit odd).

Right now, other than sticking his nose in his neighbor’s cleavage, I have no idea where you’re going with this. Maybe an initial statement sentence would help? (”Clive had no idea that dropping the crystal vase on Lady Bumbrington’s head would lead him into the greatest danger he had ever faced…”–except with a little subtlety?)

I removed some words, moved things around a bit. ‘Nestling his nostrils’ doesn’t make sense to me as an image.

Sarah

“No. I like flying just fine. It’s just been a long weekend.” Charlie smiled at the stewardess as he ordered his basic Economy Class Antidote: tomato juice - no ice, two miniature bottles of vodka, a glass of water - no ice and black coffee. It protected him from dehydration; stale, recycled airliner air; and waking up stiff and stupid just before landing. He didn’t trust airline ice. The tomato juice gave him much needed electrolytes. And the vodka was because he hated Economy Class.

After thirty years in the jewelry business, First Class or even Business Class was out of the question. The soaring cost of gold was driving prices out of the reach of his average customer. Charlie had managed to get bulkhead-aisle seating for an extra bit of legroom, directly in front of the curtained-off stewardess station and lavatories. But, still.

Charlie pushed the button on his armrest and leaned back cautiously. Meeting no resistance, he eased himself back another inch or so. He craned his neck around to see how his rear neighbor was taking it. She was in the middle of trying to exit into the aisle. Impeccable timing. His nose got stuck right in the girl’s cleavage. He felt the warmth – inhaled her scent, could feel her breasts nestling his nostrils.

If you’re trying to make a dislikeable argumentative character, then well done. Unfortunately, while a slightly sleazy bitchy guy can be an engaging protagonist, that takes wry wit, sharp observation or just generic cattiness.

Charlie the jeweler, unfortunately, is not that. He’s out of his element–an airline instead of a jewelry store–and moreover is paying attention to bullshit that has nothing to do with his general problem. Of course that may be why he’s flying economy–someone with more attention to his craft might be making it despite the soaring cost of gold–but I’m bored with him bitching about the drinks and the air, and I’m even bored by the fortuitous sleeze of his nose copping a feel on some girl’s cleavage.

This is also more than thirteen lines, but in them, nothing charming or miraculous or even slightly curious has occurred, nor are we engaged with the everyday plight of Chalie the bitchy second-rate jeweler. As such, not turning the page.