As if the title of this blog needs any explanation.
Ok, so, I left off with me waiting in the ATL airport for my flight to Tucson. Waiting in line, a single dad with his 7 year old son are waiting in front of me. Dad turns around, looks (a little too long) at my feet, moves his eyes up to my dress, my necklace, my hair... Then he looks me in the eye and says (with a creepy "I'm channeling Don Johnson with my highlighted hair" smirk), "Someone is all color-coordinated - jewelry matches your shoes and nail polish - gold and teal." I am stone-faced right about now because I dont even know how to respond to this. What does that even mean? Why are you gawking at me like a piece of lunch meat? I shyly smile (unappreciative) and act like my nose itches, showing my wedding ring. This apparently works. "Don" turns around without saying a word. Score.
Attention Passengers: What happens on the plane does not stay on the plane.
This is a very full flight and I have an aisle seat. I am Zone 1... we load on the plane first. I sit down, place my purse and carry-on under the seat in front of me, buckle up, and begin to examine each person boarding the plane, wondering who my seat partners will be. "Please don't let it be him" and "Oh no, not her". Sometimes by looking at people, you just really know who you *don't* wanna sit by. I am in full on mouth-breathe right now. An older, and shorter, white-haired man with jeans, a button up, and a blazer starts loading his carry-on in the compartment across from me. He looks like a Professor. He is not my seat partner but he is my aisle partner. The Professor drops something. I assume his knees don't bend because when he stoops over to pick it up, his rear end is literally in my face, (I am not even kidding). It's all of .2 cm from my mouth. I could have licked his jeans without moving. I make a face and lean away. I was appearing obviously disgruntled to the other passer-by's. Professor Butt-in-my-face finally takes his seat. By the time we are ready for lift off, I have my seat partners, a larger greasy couple, who apparently hate shoes. As soon as their butts hit the seat, off came their shoes. I am very annoyed at this; no one wants to smell your feet. We are all sharing the same little bit of recycled air here. Have some decency. I look around, and I notice most people near me now have their shoes off. What is the deal with this?!
The flight begins. Not long after take off, drinks and snacks are passed out, and the movie starts. We are watching "Just Go With It", with Jennifer Anniston and Happy Gilmore. The movie is quite funny, by the way. I am busy shoveling down Reese's Pieces when a stench grazes my nostrils. (I forget to breathe through my mouth after a while.) I am convinced my aisle neighbor, Professor Butt-in-my-face, has crapped his Depends. I do a quick glance over to him. He looks very uncomfortable... Confirming he is the culprit. The air finally clears... Well, as clear as it's going to get on a plane. My shoeless seat neighbor has taken over the arm rest completely and fallen asleep. I don't like to touch the bare skin of strangers (or strange people) so I am leaning into the aisle. I now know what my Charlie means when he says to me, "You look like roadkill when you sleep."
After the flight attendant slams me in the funny bone (which is not funny at all) with her drink cart, I decide leaning toward the aisle is not an option. So I force Roadkill to move her arm.
Trying to get focus back on the movie, I turn the volume up on my head phones. Mid Reese's Pieces mouthful, I see a movement in my peripheral vision. I glance over the aisle to Professor Butt-in-my-face just in time to see him lift his butt off the seat a little, and start fanning his crotch with the Sky Miles magazine.
Oh. My. Gosh. Is this real life?!
It didn't take long for the stench to reach air and wreak havok. I didn't even have time to swallow my Reese's Pieces and start my mouth breathing. I don't know if this man is nervous on the flight or if he ate dead bodies for dinner, but this has *got* to stop. The stench was so thick it must have aroused my shoeless arm rest hogging neighbor, because she immediately started coughing. Great. Not only am I surrounded by butt-lifting pooters, but shoeless hacking coughers.
Remind me to drive next time.
After a while the air somewhat cleared but as soon as it did, my neighbor started her coughing again. For the rest of the flight, both neighbors decide to work in shifts... pooting and coughing.
The pooting and the coughing has nearly drove me to drinking. I am in full on "counting mode" now. Counting everything I see as a means of calming down. This continues most the flight.
Once we land, I grab my bags and stand immediately ... I give my aisle partner a "don't even think about getting off before me" look and he allows me to go first. There was no way I was standing down-wind of the Professor.
I find baggage claim and I find Rebecca waiting on me. After loads of hugs, lots of loud giggling and laughing, I begin to warn her of my plane partners. Looking around, we realize we are the only ones laughing and having a good time. Everyone else looks miserable and tired.
We grab my bags and head out the door to her car. Chatty and giggly and telling stories, I have no doubt we were just as annoying as as the 30 teens.
Just as the airport doors open, a cool dry desert breeze hits my face... I inhale and pause, taking it all in. I think to myself,
"We're not in Louisiana anymore, Toto."
Monday, June 20, 2011
Excuse me sir, I saw you lift up and fan your poot.
As if the title of this blog needs any explanation.