I am always inspired to write when I fly. This is probably a product of my inability to properly express myself during air travel due to increased levels of security and a general intolerance for throttling fellow “passengers”, or as I like to call them “gene pool sludge”. On this particular trip, I was reminded once again that though traveling alone has many advantages, it also makes you a target for a whole slew of ridiculous requests and conversations with sweaty strangers who can’t go an hour without speaking to someone. Though I have found that wearing a surgical mask during the flight both protects you from most chatty Cathys and the filthy recycled air, there seems to be very little protection from unorganized co-dependent travelers. I almost always fly alone and in truth like to do a great many things alone. I am lucky enough to have a smokin’ hot boyfriend with whom I do many things, however we are both quite accomplished at doing a great many activities alone and I am confident that if we ever fly anywhere together and are forced to sit separately…that we will survive those trying and tragic few hours just fine. Others apparently are not so fortunate.
I was flying Southwest Airlines, to give you a frame of reference. I was boarding group A, so I got to pick my seat because I basically got my shit together sooner than they did. According to the unspoken rules of the seasoned Southwest flyer, I earned that seat and non of you slack-ass boarding group C Plebs ought not even be thinkin’ that I’m going to just give up my goods.
It’s a full flight and the first sub-creature in a business suit asks me (while there’s still an empty seat between us) if I wouldn’t mind giving up my cozy aisle seat to his co-worker who’s in the very back of the plane crammed between two large beauties in a seat that wont recline. “Oh sure pal! I’ll just let the two of you share this little suite all by yourselves while I eat my crackers off the arm fat of the women next to me. I mean I’m not wearing a suit, what do I care! Man serving Geisha, to the back!”
Scum bag #2 sits in between us, waits for the fasten seat belts sign to go off and then asks me if I wouldn’t mind switching with his “friend”…who is also in a middle seat three rows up. “Oh gosh! Silly little ole’ me! I didn’t realize that your travel problems should also be mine!” He had the nerve to infer that I was being rude for saying no. He then proceeded to stick his elbows as far into my seat as possible for the rest of the flight…that is, when his “friend” wasn’t standing next to me in the aisle holding hands with him OVER MY HEAD. Suck face on your own time degenerates, I have a bladder the size of a pea and wouldn’t give up my aisle seat for the Dali Lama if he asked me nicely, so you’re S.O.L. It’s not like anybody died, I was listening…how could I not what with her armpits in my face.
Seriously people, you can’t sit apart for a two and a half hour flight? If it was a mother and child, okay maybe, but I’m not putting myself out so you and your “friend” can play patty-cake comfortably. Don’t like sitting next to strangers? DON’T FLY! Need to use each other as pillows for an uncomfortable airplane nap? Get your shit together and get on the plane first! “Well but I just bought this ticket today, it was an emergency!”…okay, be grateful you’re on the plane and shut your pie-hole. You are, after all flying on the no whiners airline. If it’s THAT important to be attached at the hip, fly another airline but if you go for the cheap seats, suck it up. The flight attendants have extra napkins; you can cry into those. Hungry? Want a pack of peanuts? Eat a dick.