Despite fate’s best efforts and to spite the Las Vegas gambling odds, I have successfully returned to my summer home in Northern Virginia (for convenience sake it is also my winter, fall and spring home). My family and I spent two weeks on the beautiful island of Birubegja and we are rested…for the most part. Sadly human technology has not seen fit to advance to a stage where automatic teleportation is possible so we had to rely on conventional transport. That is where I broke down.
I realize that putting a socially awkward person like me in the middle of a plethora (as in plethora of piñatas…ah, Three Amigos) of fellow human beings is not a good idea, but our long hours spent in various airports and airplanes have prompted me in identifying some of the worst traveling companions we encountered in our travels. In no particular order, here we go!
Chief Whoo-Hoo and His All-Drunk Orchestra
Remember your college days when alcohol had no effect on you and all the fun you used to have before life applied its crushing grip of reality around your throat? Yeah, neither do I, but this group of college age guys are really livin’ it up! They get on the airplane already three sheets to the wind but because flight attendants stopped caring about passengers way back in 1996, they don’t seem to have any problem ordering and receiving $100+ worth of booze for the trip.
Boy did these guys have fun on their trip! I know this because in almost understandable slurring English (?) we are regaled with stories of drunken escapades and sexual encounters that may or may not have happened mostly involving goats, midgets and copious amounts of baby oil. On top of all this, I have to admit that I was interested in these stories up until they discussed their belief they could free-dive Challenger Deep.
Lady Gab Gab
Apparently some people believe that people ride on planes just to hear a stranger’s life story. One person sits down, buckles her seat belt, and looks besides her and, lo and behold, is met with the gaping maw of a mouth ready to do double-time in gum flapping for the entire trip. Oh and what a life this rambling ear-raper has led. One time she went to the Grand Canyon and it was closed. Another time she experienced all the majesty that can be experienced viewing the world’s largest ball of twine. She has a kitten named “Pookey” who has a glandular problem and once sat on her car keys for two days which made her car alarm go off all the time.
These people seem to be under the false assumption that, as sharks are rumored to drown if they stop swimming, they will surely meet their demise if they stop talking. Remember, silence is golden. The inane and incessant word hurling of a person who should be made to recite every entry in a phone book in perpetuity is rubbish.
Slippery Sammy Sales
Hey, You da Man! This guy couldn’t be more transparent if he tried. He’s giving off more slime than a slug on speed and he’s scoping the airport for his fellow sales guy. Replete with technology that enables him to spew his shallow sycophantic praise hands-free, he’s staring at random strangers and talking…but apparently not to them.
Now he’s sitting down and typing on his laptop computer while laughing at jokes on the internet while he pretends to do actual work. So glad you’re going to be able to wrap up that deal, fella…all while booking tee times and making reservations at the Bunny Ranch in Reno…I’m sure your family is soooo proud of you.
“Pardon me, sir, but would you mind leaning back in your seat so I can experience excruciating pain in my knees and lack of circulation?” – said no passenger on a plane seating in back of one of these clods…ever.
Silly me, but I thought there was an unwritten code that because airlines have reduced the size of an airplane seat to the point where an anorexic gymnast would feel a bit cramped, passengers would ask before actual reclining the seat. Granted the degree of recline is about 2 degrees bank, but still. Every inch counts in this game of flight travel. But I forgot that your level of comfort is paramount to the comfort of others. Perhaps after the flight you’d like to come to my house and you can kick my dog.
Thank goodness you’ve arrived, you special little snowflake. Now all the flights can take off and land as scheduled. We were going to be ever so sad if you couldn’t join us for our trip. What’s that? You need to upgrade your flight to first class? Then by all means push all those that have been in line on standby out of the way and speak in a condescending manner to the ticket lady who is trying to do her job.
You know those carry-on bag restrictions? They don’t apply to you, Your Excellency. No, those rules are only for us plebeians. Feel free to carry on anything you’d like. Golf Clubs? Sure. A two thirds scale size replica of Michelangelo’s David? By all means. A coffin for a poor, fat kitty who died of excessive flatulence while sitting on a set of car keys? Let me help you with that.
Flying is a pain, I get it. But I swear if you know anyone who fits on this list (I’m sure you’re not one of these because you are a smart, considerate person) please implore them to change.
Remember, Only You Can Prevent Douchebags