The Brunettutan:
If there is anything worse than traveling with amateurs it's traveling with amateurs who think they're pros...
“Just a one hour flight, that’s it … awesome” I think to myself as I board the plane to New Orleans.
Things are going well – half of the people boarding are Executive Platinum – a plane full of professional travelers. A wave of relief passes over me. How bad can this be? Everybody keeps to themselves, we faithfully ignore the fact that we’re ALL within each other’s personal space. -- 60 minutes and we're done painless as can be.
A nice quiet woman sits next to me … nothing alarming. Two (rather chatty) dudes occupy the seats in front of us.
I settle in with my book to ignore the whole flight attendant spiel.
We take off, its bumpy … but, whatever.
Right when we get to cruising altitude, and the flight attendants release us from our shackles, ChattyDude #2 decides to recline his seat into the lap of the woman next to me.
We exchange looks – mine is one of pity. Hers, annoyance.
I try to catch the eye of this egregiously rude man, so I can convey our collective annoyance at his disregard for other people. But, before I can get his attention, brassy-haired Chatty Dude #1 reclines his chair – hitting the top of my book in the process – effectively putting his seat in my lap.
Ohhhhh no you di’int.
I am so appalled, that all I do is stare straight ahead – alternating between my book and his ratty, brassy hair, 3 inches from my face.
All kinds of evil ideas go through my head. I’m so engrossed in what I could do or say, I stay on the same page of my book for 10 minutes.
I try subtle clues, like erratically pressing my knees into the back of his seat, just hoping he gets the idea.
You know, I probably could have just let it go. Chalked it up to ignorance. Some people are
douches on the golf course, too. Their mama obviously didn’t teach them manners … is that really their fault?
But, no, the dudes are seriously chattering like fucking rhesus monkeys and Chatty Dude #1 keeps shifting in his seat like he’s a humpback whale in breach. I am inches away from grabbing the hair on the top of his head (that I’m staring DOWN at), and telling him to settle the fuck down before I throat punch him.
As I’m delighting myself with this fantasy, CD1 looks back at me and smiles. Possibly interpreting my intense staring as interest of some sort.
Men.
I cannot let the opportunity pass.
“Are you smiling at me because you’ve had your head in my lap for the majority of the flight?” I ask this in my sweetest voice with a look of [not-so] genuine curiosity.
Chatty Dude #1 looks shocked … so I quickly continue: “I hope it was enjoyable for you, because I’ve been incredibly uncomfortable this whole time. Thank you SO much.” I think he gets my sarcasm, now.
Both chatty dudes, are no longer chatty.
“Do you travel much?”
CD1 nods … mouth a bit agape.
“I don't think so. --here’s the deal, there is etiquette on an airplane – much like on the golf course or at church. Part of this airplane etiquette dictates that if you recline your seat on anything less than, say, a three hour flight, you are broadcasting to everybody that you are an amateur and a colossal ASS-HOLE. And there is a special place in Hell for people that recline their seat on a ONE hour flight … and just end up talking the whole time. ”
[there is various snickering around us, since I’m not exactly being quiet]
CD1: “I, uh, didn’t … er … I’m sorry.” He oh-so-thoughtfully puts his seat back up. CD2 obediently follows suit.
That’s a good monkey.
“Well, now you know … so you can avoid looking like a (and I repeat) colossal ASS-HOLE on your next flight.”
We all settle in for a much more comfortable, and quiet, flight. Well, at least for me.
See, peer pressure still works on adults.
Throat punch -- LOL
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