Monday, August 30, 2004
Airplane passengers that suck
1. Man of unbelievably offensive body odour: literally, my hair perms when
he walks by. Fortunately I am not seated too closely by him, but if I was,
and I am typically not one to put up a massive, public fuss, I would insist
on another seat. Or him ejected. Or a spacesuit.
2. Tacky woman of southern stock: Well, they say the bigger the hair the
closer to God. With this hair in this airplane, this woman is not only close
to God, but damn well in His face. Now that blonde beehive of backcombed
madness is not the paramount frustration. Nor is her equally laquered chatty
Kathy friend. It's they're gaudy insistence on obnoxiously painting their
nails while bleating loudly like braying, nasally hyenas. Nail polish on any
ocassion, let alone in the confined recirculated air of the airplane cabin,
gives me a jackhammering headache. Add to that their ceaseless yammering and
you've got Southern Belle hell.
3. Morbid Obecitus: In future, buy your fat self two adjacent seats and get
the fuck out of mine. Yes, I want the arm rest down, and no, I do mind your
voluminous spill touch my person.
4. Lonely, elderly crackpot: I'm sorry, maybe I can't hear you or your
insufferable prattle either. Are you offering me lint encrusted sweets?
5. Busy power office worker woman: she's got something to prove against all
those Men. And dammit, that laptop circled by ringlets of confidential
reports and forecasts and memos is going to get you promoted to crusty old
cougar faster then you can say " ticking biological clock."
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Sent from my BlackBerry Wireless Handheld
he walks by. Fortunately I am not seated too closely by him, but if I was,
and I am typically not one to put up a massive, public fuss, I would insist
on another seat. Or him ejected. Or a spacesuit.
2. Tacky woman of southern stock: Well, they say the bigger the hair the
closer to God. With this hair in this airplane, this woman is not only close
to God, but damn well in His face. Now that blonde beehive of backcombed
madness is not the paramount frustration. Nor is her equally laquered chatty
Kathy friend. It's they're gaudy insistence on obnoxiously painting their
nails while bleating loudly like braying, nasally hyenas. Nail polish on any
ocassion, let alone in the confined recirculated air of the airplane cabin,
gives me a jackhammering headache. Add to that their ceaseless yammering and
you've got Southern Belle hell.
3. Morbid Obecitus: In future, buy your fat self two adjacent seats and get
the fuck out of mine. Yes, I want the arm rest down, and no, I do mind your
voluminous spill touch my person.
4. Lonely, elderly crackpot: I'm sorry, maybe I can't hear you or your
insufferable prattle either. Are you offering me lint encrusted sweets?
5. Busy power office worker woman: she's got something to prove against all
those Men. And dammit, that laptop circled by ringlets of confidential
reports and forecasts and memos is going to get you promoted to crusty old
cougar faster then you can say " ticking biological clock."
--------------------------
Sent from my BlackBerry Wireless Handheld
