That is a surprisingly accurate description of how my head felt after the two flights to Colorado. The frantic playing, the dizzying scales, and the final sigh of relief (exhaustion?) when it’s finally over.
I am no road warrior for work (though I’d like to be – anyone hiring?), but over the years, I’ve done my fair share of flying. By the end of the summer, I’m pretty sure I’ll have reinstated my Elite status on two major airlines. I’ve taken flight etiquette lessons and tips from movies like Up In The Air, and I think my level of awareness (and general consideration for other people) is pretty high. However…
I like window seats on flights because I enjoy watching the sun rise/set, or watch the cities get smaller and smaller. And so on my flight, I had a direct leg to DFW (4 hours), and then a short flight to DEN (2 hours), and I was excited as I figured I’d be able to see the lights of a city I’d never been to.
Behind me sat a child that could not be more than four years old. He decided it would be fun to kick the back of my seat, to the beat of the full-volume game soundtrack on his iPad – for the majority of the flight. This was bad. But it wasn’t the worst part.
Next to said child was his younger sister, probably two years old. She was angry about something. She screamed. For FOUR. FUCKING. HOURS. AsiaTrashMom (you know this woman – she’d be very attractive, if it weren’t for the orange hair, too much makeup, the hot pink and rhinestone-studded Juicy Couture tracksuit) was next to her, on the aisle, and saying, “Shhhh honey, shhh.” Later, it turned into a combination of, “Shhh, honey, shhh, don’t cry” and “I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT STOP CRYING JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!!!!!!”
The man next to me was a ginger, and clearly too big for his seat. The man next to him was Indian, and also too big for his seat. My row smelled of curry and BO, and somehow the aisle guy kept leaning in, instead of out, and in an effort to get away from him, the middle guy kept leaning towards and falling asleep on me. I’m not a large person, and I don’t need that much room, but for fuckssake. I do want SOME personal space.
Finally, it was time to land in Dallas. KickerBoy kept kicking, but now with more excitement. ScreamerBaby kept screaming, but this time with renewed fervor and gusto. ATM kept trying to shush her, to the point where I almost yelled back, “THAT DIDN’T WORK IN HARTFORD, OR ON THIS ENTIRE GOD DAMN FLIGHT!!!!! YOU THINK IT’S GOING TO WORK NOW?!?!”
To add insult to injury, YellowFeverHusband (the tall, skinny, nerdy white guy who loooooooooves Asian women) was sitting right behind ATM, and was sleeping with his headphones on. Love that passive parenting.
And so, as a humble request to all of My Dear Readers (all three of you), please. I implore you. Don’t be ATM. Don’t be YFH. Don’t be MiddleGuy. Respect the other passengers’ hearing and their personal space. Because then you might end up seated behind someone who writes on the internet, and who will inevitably complain about you on her blog. And no one wants that.