Thursday, December 29, 2005

The losing battle for my dignity.

This long and arduous journey back to Cincinnati is almost over.
I have maintained a poor disposition for most of the many flights.

On my last leg I was involved in a passive-aggressive fight.
It was the battle of ages.

I specifically wanted, picked and paid for a window seat for that 6-hour flight.
But, much like the three bears, by the time I boarded someone was sitting in my chair.

Damn Goldilocks.

In this position you have two choices.
One: explain the situation and force the switching of seats (upsetting the napping center seat in the process not to mention the line of tired people waiting to move past me)
Two: glare. And then take the aisle.

I chose option two.
I glared.
But, I glared with force.
I glared with all my might. I focused all my travel frustrations into a glare that could go down in history.

Goldilocks responded by narrowing her eyes, slyly and silently admitting that she knowingly perpetrated this heinous crime.
Then she smiled.
Daring me to do something about it.

Anger bubbled.
My blood boiled.
And, like a wounded puppy, I tucked my tail between my legs and backed down. Taking the seat I had objected to I began to plot my revenge.

I plotted and planned.
Thinking of medical-ish terms to describe the debilitating condition that required me to look out windows.
I worked with my pen, attempting to make it explode in an arc that would clear the sleeping center and hit her square in her too heavily made-up face.

I even worked up a daring scenario involving oxygen masks, tray tables, and those little glass liquor bottles. This one had a lot of potential, but depended too heavily on peanut allergies.
In the end I ended up abandoning my plots in favor of viciously passing her drink and making sardonic comments about manners to my snoozing neighbor.

It all left me with a bad taste. I feel ashamed to have been intimidated and overrun by a ninety-year old woman.

A few flights later:

Bad News: there is a small child sitting behind me on my third flight in a day and a half.
Good News: the small child sitting behind me is peacefully off in la-la land.
Bad News: The mother has already informed me, in a sincerely apologetic tone, that when the little angel wake up she will begin to pound the back of my seat with her tiny shiny Mary-janes.

With every turbulent bump I wait for that surprise kick in the kidneys.

I am now staring out the window. Cincinnati is in my sights.
The pilot wants my to turn off my electronic equipment.
Landing shortly.

You should've farted.
I bet the woman would've moved.
though i have the reputation among my students as gassy, i still have not perfected the ability to toot on comand
Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Site Meter