Sunday, December 31, 2006

Things I hate about airplanes.

1. Talkative guy

You sit in you seat, pull out your book o laptop and start to fall into you pre-planned entertainment. Then, without warning, the person next to you asks, “So where are you heading?” You look at them slowly, and state you destination with a final sort of tone and quickly turn your attention back to your work.
Then you hear, “going for business or pleasure?”

That’s when you realize it, you are sitting next to Loquacious Larry.

Loquacious Larry is that happy soul who seems to forget that people cannot read and talk at the same time.

I sat next to Loquacious Larry during my first flight of the day. And though he was an interesting fellow, I was not interested in his life story. I wanted to read my book.
It’s a very good book and I am very near to the end.

But Loquacious Larry wanted to chat.

At the first pause in the conversation I donned my head-phones. Hoping that the shiny white plugs in my ears would be enough to deter even the most persistent annoyances.

No such luck. After a few moments of pleasant reading there was a tap tap tap on my shoulder.
Loquacious Larry.

“Your just want to read, don’t you? I bet you want me to just shut up. I know that feeling, I was on a flight to Atlanta a few weeks ago and the woman next to me just wouldn’t stop talking. All I wanted to do is just read my Maxium. You ever read Maxium? It’s a good read. Lots a hot women in it…”

He kept going.
And going.
And going.

I nodded. I smiled.
I banged my head on the tray table.

2. Little Ones.

I know this is an obvious point to make. Anyone who has ever been on an airplane knows the suffering brought on by crying children. They also know what it is like to have a child kicking the back of their seat.

Imagine, if you will, those two being one in the same.

I currently have a baby behind me.

A constantly screaming,
Ear piercingly loud,
Kicking and punching,
Baby on board.

3. Poopy.

I am lucky enough to have an exit row seat. You know that row in the front of some planes right where you board, with nothing but a large space before you.

It is fairly wonderful.
I have plenty of leg room and the ability to stand up and dance at any given moment.

In fact, I think I will dance now.
Disco is back, baby!

* Standing up and doing a great Friday Night Fever impersonation. *

Ok, better now, all danced out.

My disco dance floor is an excellent place. It’s a large and empty and, well, mine.

The baby behind me made a stinky. A normal thing for babies to do. They poop and, I have no argument with that.

I do have a problem with the changing of said dirty diaper in my happy clean disco dance floor.

I diverted my attention, avoiding the sight of baby poop.
When something hit me.

A smell that only my sister would dare to replicate.

Not only was my disco dance floor degraded but my nasal cavity was attacked.
Grrr, Babies.

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