Perpetually Peeved


I’m so not sure

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.   

This Peggy Bundy costume has come in handy on many occasions.

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. 

PPS – Perfume is NOT a replacement for deodorant.  If I can smell your perfume/cologne/aftershave, you’re not doing it right.  If you keep hearing people gag as walk by, you’re not doing it right.  If you drive by me in your car and your scent travels the 10 yards to my nostrils, you’re not doing it right.

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.

Advertisements

17 Comments so far
Leave a comment

Hilarious! I will keep that in mind the next I fly SW……. Will keep my eyes peeled for Mammoth Molly….

Comment by redriverpak

Who would you dress up as?

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

Well, you did quite the job of painting that picture. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to vomit.

Comment by katie o.

Oh, lord! That is horrible. It’s one thing to be big, it’s another to not practice basic hygiene. Thankfully that flight attendant took pity on you!

Comment by Amy

Yes, that and Coke is very soothing on the stomach.

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

[…] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Tim Flickinjer, Perpetually Peeved. Perpetually Peeved said: The thin lady that got booted from the @SouthwestAir flight needs to quit her bitchin'. Here's why: http://wp.me/pUGUc-em […]

Pingback by Tweets that mention I’m so not sure « Perpetually Peeved -- Topsy.com

Oh dear god PP, I think I have meet Mammoth Molly’s hubby on one of my trips. I had a friggin deja vu reading this. Virtually the same thing happened, though I hadn’t the foresight to bring a six pack of Jack and coke. The friggin flight attendant was closing the plane door whilst I was doing my mantra of “empty seat, empty seat, empty seat” when there was a knock and the bitch opened it. The biggest friggin man in the world entered and was placed in the only empty seat in the plane (next to friggin me). He too sweated balls of stench. Good times

Comment by frigginloon

“sweated balls of stench” ha ha ha

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

Next time, always bring some religious indoctrination literature from(I won’t name out of respect)” one of those groups” always knocking at your door and give her five hours of the “holy, holy, holy.’ She’ll move. Or go to the ladies room, apply lipstick in dots on your face and arms and take your seat and fake cough and sneeze. She’ll move. Always carry a copy of Mercenaries Guns and Armaments Magazine and show her all the cool stuff(personally I dig the axes). She’ll move(be careful here, you might be the one that gets moved, however) . Keep a banana in your purse and if one of these”needs 3 seats” with kid “goshaloms” plops down next to you, offer her the banana for her monkey. She will be insulted and move. However, she may ram it down your throat. At least you can wash it down with the Jack and Coke. When boarding suggest to security that the blobs of fat bulging out under her garments may be explosives or cocaine. At least she’ll miss your flight boarding. Or see if Wells Fargo has any stage coaches left and take the slow scenic route enjoying the purple mountains and the amber grain from sea to sea. If she’s unemployed suggest she may find a job as a continent. She’ll move. Like an earthquake.

Comment by Carl D'Agostino

Ah, yes. Religious pamphlets. That is much easier than trying to get my hair to stand up like that.

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

Well, I’d just like to thank you for aiding me in my effort to lose weight. I was hungry and about to go get something to eat before I read this. Now I’ve lost my appetite, and there’s a pretty good chance I might vomit. Thanks… I think…

But seriously, that’s gross. It doesn’t matter how big you are, you can still take a shower, or put on some freakin deodorant. Or both, if you’re feeling really hygienic. That reminds me of every single time I’ve ever walked into the DMV to renew my car tag. It never fails, I ALWAYS get stuck behind the nastiest-smelling people, and that line takes forever. Thankfully, nothing like your 5 hour plane ride, though…

Comment by Joe

Gack. I’m about to go to DMV this week to pay my tags. Can’t wait to see what odorful wonders await me there.

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

Hurling …

Comment by izziedarling

Between the mammoth boob imagery and that picture, I’m feeling pretty sick right now. So is that the game we are playing, PP? I break your monitor/nose w/ my posts; you make me sick to my stomach w/ yours?

Comment by Pop

It’s like blog bulimia. You make me binge, I make you purge.

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

Try getting stuck in a row next to 2 oversized people. And I am big enough as it is.

Comment by Bearman

The horror. There is no reason for people to inflict that on others.

Comment by omawarisan




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s



%d bloggers like this: