I swear that planes, like Walmart after midnight, bring the very strangest variety of people out of the woodworks. Maybe it’s because I’m crabby from having to wake up at 4:00 am to drive two hours to catch my flight, or maybe it’s because I can’t feel my legs from being cramped in a 18”x24” box for five hours, but people are really making me feel uncomfortable. This is my bubble; no you may not enter my bubble by putting the armrest up.
Lets start with the older woman behind me. I promise, she has never flown in an airplane before. Either that, or she may be too senile to remember her last voyage. Talk about a worrywart. Before we even took off, the captain had to have a chat with her about how fast the plane would be traveling at capacity. Though wind-speed/direction seemed to go right over her head, he seemed to calm her down…at least until takeoff. Once in the air, she kept nagging her husband, “How do I use those oxygen masks? Where is my flotation device? Where is the exit slide for emergencies?” Or better yet, “what happens to all our stuff if the plane goes down?” I appreciate the inquisitiveness, but the l-a-s-t thing everyone around you wants to think about, while at 35,000 feet, is the plane crash-landing.
I’m pretty sure they’re filming an episode of “My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding” on this flight. Though I think that show is completely wrong on the mere basis of stereotyping that group of people, the three girls in front of me look the part that TLC portrays. They are all wearing stiletto-heeled brown leather boots, have basically everything besides their nipples showing, hair straightened to their knees, bling up the yin, and their makeup is wearing their face.
Next we have the boy whose horrible music can be heard by the entire plane. I can’t even describe what this music sounds like, but he’s wearing a “Tap Out” shirt, so I’ll leave you to be the judge. Turn the music down and save those young ears. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to ask the flight attendant “what” repeatedly when she’s trying to offer you a beverage. The music is so loud, in fact, that the couple next to him is talking about it at very audible without him having so much as a clue.
No wonder why that baby is crying, there’s a rave going on in row 25 inside Tap-Out’s ears. I really feel for young mothers and fathers on airplanes. Having kids is hard; bringing them into a pressurized cabin is a whole other ballgame. The dad keeps thinking he’s able to calm the baby down, but it seems to be more the fact that everyone around is waving and smiling to the baby behind his back. My ears are plugged, my head feels pressurized, and the >2” incline that these chairs tilt back is really frustrating. Sometimes flying makes me want to scream too, poor little guy.
Then you have ME. I have a really hard time getting comfortable when I sleep. I toss and turn for seemingly hours when I’m not in the “perfect” position. Yet somehow, I just woke up with my face smack down on my tray-table and my arms in the seat pocket in front of me. Luckily, I don’t know anyone in this machine, and there are no hot guys. Well maybe one, but he’s the father of the crying baby, so I’m not really embarrassed!
Always,
Alena Netia Horowitz
