|Posted by Stephen on May 8, 2012 at 9:30 AM|
How Not to Fly
by Stephen Gillikin
When it comes to traveling, do what you got to do to make it work. As long as you're not negatively affecting me, I don't care.
Which by the way, don't negatively affect me.
Like, don't be of such decent size (which is the way I like to kindly refer to fat folks) that your arm fat or even torso fat bubbles over onto the armrest and actually hits the buttons and changes the channel while I'm trying to watch Design On a Dime or whatever I watch on JetBlue's DirectTV service.
And yes this has happened.
Not the Design On a Dime part; I'm not even certain what that show even actually is. But I have had a decently sized man's decently sized forearm gel over while he slept.
But beyond this intrusive and sort of super specific example, I don't care.
Get drunk, masturbate in the bathroom with USA Today, box your child's ears, do whatever it is you need to do to make the flying traveler situation more manageable for yourself.
However, this doesn't mean that I won't notice what you do and secretly judge you.
I don't get when people start eating a meal as soon as they board the plane.
Not as soon as take-off happens; as soon as we board. I understand the idea of bringing food in case anytime mid-flight you decide to meal it up, but if you eat as soon as you sit, some 20 minutes before we're even on the runway?
Why didn't you just eat in the terminal? Are you trying to tell me that you had the patience, foresight, and restraint to hold onto your sandwich while you waited outside the gate, but the second you smelled recycled air and heard Celine Dion as you made your way into your leather-ish aisle seat, you just had to stuff your decently sized mouth with overpriced Burger King, leaving you with trash to hold onto?
People who do their makeup within the first 20 minutes on a plane.
If it's an hour or less flight, I get it, ladies.
Or if you're traveling with your significant male, I get that you want to look good for him and that he'd never love you otherwise.
But beyond that, what the hell are you doing?
And for who?
Do you think you're going to run into an attractive guy while making your way to the bathroom? You'd be lucky to even settle for running into someone like me on your way.
And I assure you, I won't notice.
Because when I'm coming back from an airplane lavatory, all I'm thinking about is one, not falling, and two, not accidentally trying to sit in the wrong seat.
And when I'm making my way to the bathroom, all I'm thinking about is how I'm going to have be fast in there, because right now the people seated closest to the back might notice I went in and then maybe they'll clock how long I went in, and start wondering what kind of a bathroom visit I'm experiencing.
In fairness though, the odds that they pay attention of that is as likely as me paying notice to an en-route female's just-applied make-up.
Get your baby the fuck off the plane. I know sometimes babies have have places to be too, and I've often felt bad for especially a single-traveling parent with their spawn.
But I have a good feeling that a lot, if not most of the idiots voyaging with their tiny demon are doing so for no good reason.
You've got a one-year old but still want to vacation in Fort Myers?
1. I don't know why you choose Fort Myers as your get away destination, you decently sized head, but
2. Leave the shrieker at home. Or don't go 'till it's older.
And if you're a big enough dick to bring your misbehaved seed on an extraneous trip then I think you should probably also go and be a big enough a-hole to try sedating your child first.
People do it with their animals all the time.
Aside from the attendants running out of cranberry juice and then trying to pass off cranapple as the same thing, I've never been in an "emergency situation" on a plane. But I will still throw out the following:
I get it, you chose the exit aisle for the extra leg room. Personally, I don't find it a favorable trade to give up seat-recline range for a little more foot space, but you do, and that's fine.
However, when shit comes to balls, you better be willing to open that door.
If I burn alive in the cabin because some non-hero with long legs wanted the "good seat," I swear I will haunt your family. And not friendly candlestick moving, Disneyland Haunted Mansion style. I'm talking about getting Insidious up in your shit. I'm the sort of ghost that will literally frighten you to death. Or at least pee in your hot water heater.
I will make your walls run with blood, turn your food into maggots and bile, and I'll leave your bathroom light on even when nobody's in there just so that your power bill is slightly higher.
But fortunately I'm not dead, and hopefully I'll never have to haunt anything as that would severely interfere with my goal of hanging out and bouncing around in a heaven made entirely of marshmallows and cotton candy that can also be eaten at will.
It's my afterlife plan, OK, don't judge me about it.
And as long as you don't, I'll keep my flight judgments to myself.
And to whoever else reads this website.
Stephen is currently working on a screenplay adaptation of the Tiki Room attraction at Disneyland. In free-time, he can be found oil-painting or playing catch with his illegitimate son. He lives in San Antonio.