Filed under: General Peevery | Tags: airline, annoying, blue in the face, downing jack & cokes, drive me up the wall, fat people on the plane, flying, getting drunk in an airplane bathroom, getting drunk to fly, grating, nervous breakdown, peeve, peggy bundy, pet peeves, raise your hand if you're sure, sarcastic, stinky people on plane, vent
Many years ago, when I lived in San Diego, I decided to fly back to New York for a family visit. Back then, they didn’t have liquid restrictions in security, so I had my trusty six pack of pre-made Jack & Cokes at the ready. Because the only thing I hate more than flying is flying sober.
Short on money, I decided I would fly on Southwest. Yes, the airline that only flies into airports 2 hours from where you want to be going and makes you stop 3 times to get there. Which, equates to 3 take offs and landings (hopefully) – thus the sixer of booze-spiked sodas. Back then, Southwest also used to have this “first come, first served” policy of seating. Sounds good… in theory.
So there I am, after downing two of my drinks, loading up on the plane and I see a window seat available, right behind the wing. Perfect. I plop in and pop open another bottle. People continue to load and I start to do my positive thinking mantra, “nice quiet girl, nice quiet girl with no perfume, nice quiet girl with no perfume and no baby.” Except, this time, it actually works. Down the aisle comes a nice girl, book in hand, no baby in sight, and sits down in the aisle seat of my row. One seat in between us, no fighting for armrests, doors about to close. Looking good.
And there she was. The largest lady I have ever seen boarding the plane at the last minute. Don’t look, don’t look, if you don’t look she won’t notice the empty seat. GDit! You had to look, didn’t you, nice girl?
I did some rapid calculations in my head. 52/18 * 1 to the x power… yep, that woman’s ass was definitely going to take up exactly 2.75 seats.
So, how this woman shimmied in to the seat between me and Nice Girl is a complete and utter mystery to me. All I know is, by the end of it, I was covered in Jack & Coke and looked like this against the airplane window:
Well, maybe if I ask the flight attendent for a straw…
Once Mammoth Molly had realized the armrests fold up and secured her ginormous assets in the seat(s), it was time for take-off. Okay, it’s only a 5 hour flight to our first stop. Surely I won’t be able to feel anything from the neck down after about 5 minutes anyway. GOOD GOD IN HEAVEN WHAT IS THAT SMELL? Oh yes, that smell, my friends, was MM adjusting the air-conditioning vents. Don’t look. Don’t look. What the… is that a giant armpit? Oh, I don’t feel so good… Boarding the plane was a little hard on MM – caused her to break out in a sweat and all. Apparently, Secret is strong enough for a man, made for a woman, but unable to conquer the dreadful stench of MM’s exertion.
Dear God, if you strike me with lightening or, just even let me pass out, I promise to devote my life to fighting illiteracy and poverty and… oh dear, I think that’s Jack & Coke I taste in the back of my throat.
There is only one thing to do. Hold my breath for 5 hours and hope that if it doesn’t kill me it will at least make me pass out. Which, I did. Only, I was awakened by a hefty *thwap* across my body. What the? Huh? I looked down to see MM’s glistening arm laying across me. Glistening, you ask? Yes, glistening. From the sweat. That came from underneath her mammoth boob. See, the lack of armrests posed a dilemma for MM. How was she to fall asleep and keep her arms in her own seat? No, can’t reach around my own stomach to clasp them together. Can’t put them under my head or the little drunk green girl might pass out. I know, I’ll lift up my breasts and tuck them underneath – that’ll hold ’em. I tried to scream, but I was too busy holding my breath.
When we finally arrive in Houston, the flight attendent says: “Ma’am, are you okay? Maybe she should head to the bathroom – would you mind moving out of the aisle and letting her out?”
It’s okay to breathe. Remember how now. Huuuuuuhhhhhh…. there we go. Now, exhale. Now, grab the cooler and run.
When the bathroom on an airplane seems spacious to you, you know you have issues. After scrubbing my nostrils with antibacterial soap and downing the remainder of my sixer, I headed back out to the seat. She was still there. I stole someone else’s seat and there I remained until the next stop. Now, there is an instance where non-assigned seating came in handy.
Moral of the story? Don’t stink. I forgot to put deodorant on this morning after I got out of the shower. You know what I did? Stopped at the drugstore after lunch and bought some. Because, that’s the right thing to do.
PS – I do this often, which is why I can tell you from experience that the glove compartment is not a good place to store your spare deodorant.
PPPS – Something tells me THIS woman needs to read this entry and realize sometimes the world works in mysterious ways.
PPPPS – My solution is this: dress like someone you wouldn’t want to sit next to on a flight. Works like a charm.
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