My flight to Camp Mighty almost ended in bloodshed.
It all started with his Klonopin. Because by all means, honey – one should never plan in advance for your medicinal needs. In fact, you should not only wait until the very last minute to take your anti-anxiety meds but also board the plane without any liquid to take them. Then you can ask your unsuspecting seat partner to ‘fetch you some wooohhtah’ with your posh Bri’ish ahhxent.
Hi, have we met? But suuuure, I’ll fetch you some wooohtah.
Then you demonstrated thoroughly the extent to which your hands were shaking as you took the medicine. Holding them up to my face and shouting, “LOOK, THEY’RE SHAKING! GOOD THING THESE DRUGS KICK IN QUICKLY!”? That was especially effective. People were looking at me uncomfortably.
Well, didn’t this escalate quickly?
You then proceeded to play with the buttons on the seats and mini-tv monitor in front of you, exclaiming loudly at every wondrous discovery. “OH LOOK, THE BUTTON FOR YOUR LIGHT TURNS MY LIGHT ON! I WONDER IF THAT’S A MECHANICAL MALFUNCTION?”
Ohmygod, can we please take off now so I can put in my earbuds? Or maybe you’ll just say ‘bomb’ on a plane and get kicked off.
Next you borrowed my Sharpie pen to do Sudoku for approximately five minutes. Except when you accidentally wrote on your khakis with it, you yelled at me, “IS THIS PERMANENT MARKER?!?”
It’s a Sharpie PEN. Not a SHARPIE MARKER.
When we were airborne you asked me how long it will be before we are served any food or drink. I assured you politely that it would not be long.
But then you delivered the death blow. You admitted that this was not the first time you’ve flown. It was just the first time you haven’t flown in First Class.
It all became clear. JesusFUCK, hurry up with the carts before I throat-punch him.
When the carts appeared you huffed out a relieved, “FINALLY.” Your relief ended when they rolled right past us and all the way to the front of the plane. You held in your frustration until the attendants had almost reached us, but not quite. Oh no, not you. You just had to wave furiously at the nearest flight attendant and demand to be helped NOW. “MISS? MISS! I HAVE HYPOGLYCEMIA AND I NEED FOOD RIGHT NOW!” The flight attendant quickly became concerned and asked what she could bring you to eat. You spat out, “DO YOU HAVE ANY WINE?!”.
My jaw dropped. I quickly shut it and tucked my chin into my chest. Must. Not. Show. Emotion.
“I WANT WHITE WINE. HOW BIG ARE THE SERVINGS? OH, THEY’RE LITTLE BOTTLES. GIVE ME TWO OF THEM.” I couldn’t help it… I looked up at the flight attendant and she replied to you with raised eyebrows and dripping sarcasm, “Well, that will certainly help with your sugar levels.” She looked at me then and my lips twitched, but I quickly regained composure. She rang up your two bottles of white wine and two turkey sandwiches, for a grand total of close to thirty bucks. She slid me a look that said “poor you” as she returned to her previous position.
Bless your heart. You talked to me, at me, or in my general direction for the duration of the flight – and despite the fact that I was obviously reading and very much wearing earbuds and even ignoring you on a few occasions. But you were persistent. You weren’t even phased when time and again I removed an earbud and said, “I’m sorry, what? I didn’t hear you because I have my earbuds in while I’m trying to read.”
Sarcasm. It’s lost on you.
I loved it when you asked me if I knew where Riverside, California was in relation to L.A. When I didn’t, you replied, “Oh, I thought you’d know since you’re American.”
This just keeps getting better.
I knew the novelty would fade quickly and watched as you became increasingly cranky with crampy legs and a sore ass. You asked when the next time I’ll be getting up to use the facilities would be. I replied that I could move at any time to let you out – to just let me know. You said okay. Earbuds went back in. 3 minutes later, you leaned in again – earbuds back out. “Can you…” *points to aisle*. SURE. I jumped up quickly to let you out, just so I could have 5 minutes to meditate my blood pressure back down to normal levels. Then when you returned, you achingly lowered yourself into your seat, falling the last foot or so and hitting your ass directly on the armrest.
“ARRGGHHHOOWWW”, you screamed.
The passengers looked at me like I’d clubbed you. I wish I had.
I decided to try closing my eyes (with earbuds in) and pretending to be asleep. Yet you still made yourself impossible to ignore by leaning into me and continuing to close-talk until I opened my eyes, removed an earbud and feigned not even an ounce of Igiveashit.
At that point, I’d had it. I am usually a kind person, forever willing to give the benefit of the doubt to even a hardened criminal. I hate confrontation and have a hard time being deliberately mean. But you? You were on my last damn nerve. How I managed to not cause you bodily harm, I do not know. But I am quite pleased with myself for not winding up in the evening news headlines: “CAMP MIGHTY ATTENDEE ARRESTED FOR ASSAULTING ANXIOUS HYPOGLYCEMIC BRIT WITH A SHARPIE PEN”.
A small piece of advice to the veteran first class fliers out there: PLEASE do not choose a nonstop cross-country flight to be your virgin voyage into the world of coach. And know that if you do decide to slum it with the rest of us, you should be prepared to have your divalicious ways mocked mercilessly on the internet. With turtle gifs.
This piece is being submitted to this week’s Yeah Write Open Grid. What is Yeah Write? Pshhh. Only the bestest writing/blogging community on teh internets. Git you some.