Fasten Seat Belt While Seated
TLDR - People on flights are inconsiderate and bug me - but here’s a pretty picture.
This flight on US Airways was miserable. I had the middle seat on the Charlotte-Houston leg back from DC, and all of the bins were full because people suck and bring more carry-ons than they should, or can’t figure out that one goes below and one goes above. So I had all my camera gear and my backpack with my laptop and clothes shoved under the seat, which meant no legroom. That’s fine, I’m fairly small, I can deal with it.
What really gets me though, is I’m stuck between a beefy old dude overflowing into my seat, and a batty old lady next to me. Batty Old Lady can’t take a hint that I want to be left alone, and Beefy Old Dude (let’s call them BOL and BOD for the sake of brevity) can’t seem to sit still. So I’m crammed into this seat, trying my best to be as small as I can, and BOD’s over there finding my arm or ribs with his elbow every time I shuffle and harumph and get resettled after he bonks into me. Every time. He was never not poking me with his elbows the entire flight. And I’ll be damned if he didn’t fidget every two minutes with his newspaper, glasses, cheez-its, bad Gary Paulsen book, his wife in the aisle next to him, the tray table, or his glass of coke. So that’s BOD’s story. Nice to meet you BOD. Oh and he kicked me once, I almost forgot about that. I was wearing flip-flops. It was uncomfortable and he never once acknowledged my existence.
BOL, I think was just bored and wanted someone to talk to, but that’s not my problem. I’m already grouchy from having to put up with the Charlotte airport and BOD, and just wanted to enjoy some cool jams and a sad story about a guy named Winston and a girl named Julia. She couldn’t take the hint from my earbuds blaring the latest progressive metal act from across the pond, and my face buried in social relevancy that I was in no mood to chit-chat. Halfway through the flight the seatbelt sign goes on, and the captain comes on the intercom saying that the air at 30,000 feet is a bit bumpy (you don’t say?) and that turbulence from some douchey Airbus A380 above us is knocking us around (I didn’t know that was a thing, and the pilot sounded pissed about it). That’s when BOL decides it’s time to go to the bathroom. After attempted perturbed persuasions to the contrary, she insisted. She had to go. And I understand that. You gotta go, you gotta go. But where was that motivation five minutes ago? When the light was off? When it was safe to move about the cabin? I was mostly just annoyed because I did not want to put myself in danger of falling into somebody’s lap, and didn’t want to inconvenience that person with my sudden presence on the seat back tray. ”Hope you’re having a nice flight ma’am! Don’t mind me. I didn’t spill your Coke did I?” And so BOD and I bobbled about the aisle to make way, hoping the flight attendants didn’t come to hiss at us for being out of our seats (they had JUST done this too, right before she got up). When she got back we teetered around again, BOD resembling a bowling pin, and then she plopped herself down in my seat and began rummaging through her things. My seat. After about a minute of this she finally extricated herself from mine, and with much show and effort plopped back into the seat where she belonged.
Fortunately, that was the last disturbance from her. I suppose it just shocks me how utterly little people think about the others around them on commercial flights.