I don't know what it is about me and planes.
Although, I must admit since I've been flying Southwest, I have had minimal issues with the exception of the guy that was shouting to Jesus every time we hit turbulence and kept trying to make a cell phone call from the plane. That was oddly amusing. This flight was not.
Yesterday, I veered off the Southwest plan, and I'm not sure when I will do that again.
I have a hard time with goodbyes, I always have. So after my sister and I literally wrestled over me leaving her money, I gave her a HUGE tear-filled hug and went to check in.
No curbside check-in. (Groan.)
Kiosk #1. Not working.
Kiosk #2. Slow.
All the while I'm watching the bag drop line grow, and grow. Anxiety is starting to set in. Frontier had a line with 96 people in it (yes - i counted) and 4 people to handle those people. I might miss my flight! So I finally conquered Kiosk #2, and RAN into line.
I got through in 29 minutes, which was long enough.
Now to get through security. I looked down and saw an atrium packed full of mice winding their way through a gigantic maze - which had to be at least an hour. Thank God for precheck, but even that line was long. Then a security agent who had wings on her back and was donning a glowing halo told me if I was flying Frontier, there was no wait across the bridge.
WONDERFUL!
What she didn't tell me was that I'd be hoofing it across the bridge, over the river, through the woods, and be halfway to Colorado Springs by the time I finished. At at the end of that rainbow, no precheck.
Lovely.
I've become snobbishly accustomed to not having to remove my shoes & laptop - and the one trip I bring a laptop, is the one trip I have to dig it out.
Still, I'm in trooper mode. I got this.
I make it to the gate on time, tears have subsided, and now I'm just waiting to board the plane. Since they already started boarding, I was in no hurry to stand in another long line, so I sat down and waited as I recovered from my arduous trek.
As the line shortened, I observed a mom with not one but THREE screaming toddlers (poor thing) hovering the way I was. That alone was incentive for me to get up and get in line as I did not want ANY part of that.
As I make my way to Row 2 - middle seat I survey my neighbors with whom I will be sitting close to for the next 3 hours (I'm not a middle seat fan, but I'm preassigned and I got one with bonus leg room that others paid for). Common courtesy tells you when someone arrives in your row donning a big ass backpack, that the person in the aisle stand up and let them in. The lady in the aisle never got that memo, and that would become increasingly and abundantly clear throughout the flight. Since she refused to stand up, I tried to gingerly sneak past her as she half-heartedly tucked her knees in, but I still ended up whapping her in the face with my backpack.
She immediately made a noise that sounded like I hit her with a truck and grabbed her mouth like I ruined her face for life. "I'm so sorry!", said I, as I continued to negotiate the removal of said backpack with her still comfortably seated. "Are you okay?" I inquired, worried I would have to summon a team of medics to address whatever her issue was.
"I'm fine," she mumbled, clearly not happy about the situation. I was secretly hoping she would learn a valuable lesson at this point, but would later learn some people are just beyond hope... or courtesy.
As luck would have it, the SAME little old man (Ralph) that sat to my left on the ride TO Denver, was again seated to my left on the ride home. (What are the chances?!?) He immediately recognized my frustration with aisle lady, and attempt to assuage my frustration by asking how the visit with my nieces went. I asked him about the conference he had attended and after a few minutes of exchanging niceties, earbuds went in and I wanted to just take off. It was then that I noticed my portable battery charger was dead, despite charging it overnight. Gah. Must. Use. Phone. Sparingly.
Im pretty sure the last time I changed the time on the watch I was wearing I was in Phoenix, and had since been through three more time zone changes and daylight saving time, so while I can't pay attention to the hour, the minutes are accurate. But when I looked down, my watch said 40 minutes after.
Wait.
We were supposed to be wheels up at 5:30. Is my watch wrong? So I tap Ralph and ask for the time, and he gives me 5:41. The accordion looking thingy was still attached to the plane. It was right about then that the flight attendants began to congregate in the front of the plane staring at the door like it was a confusing puzzle. This was not the reassurance I was looking for...
Still, more time passed and additional personnel continued to come down the accordion thingy and it was clear there was a problem.
It wasn't until panic had spread throughout the plane that the pilot finally came over the P.A. system to tell us there was a problem with the door, but it was being addressed and we should be on our way shortly.
He has an odd definition of "shortly". To make matters worse, on the flight out, Ralph told me about being on a flight over Kentucky when the door flew off and the oxygen masks dropped and how the pilot did a nosedive to get them to lower altitude... emergency landing... medical clearances... the whole nine yards. So this was what I thought I would have to be prepared for. I actually read the emergency guide and listened to the pre flight instructions. After a lot of disconcerting banging and thumping, the door somehow got closed around 6:15 and we sat there... for another 10 minutes.
As we began to taxi away from the terminal, I noticed all the other planes were in a line for deicing. Apparently we decided to skip that because we were running behind, but again - I have friends that build airplanes who have said if you ever see ice on the wing, GET OFF THE PLANE.
Perhaps it was better that I was too far forward to inspect the wings, as I'm sure I would have seen something I deemed to be ice.
So, we're finally in the air, and the seat-belt light goes off as we have reached cruising altitude. Aisle lady decides this was a good time to air out her feet. It is one thing to kick off your high heels, and another thing altogether to unlace boots that have been suffocating stinky feet for Lord-only-knows how long and let them puppies breathe. In a confined space. With limited air.
How dare ye assault my snout in such an offensive manner.
Jiminy Christmas.
Do people really not smell their own stink? Because we were in the 2nd row and I'm pretty sure anyone using the rear lavatory could smell that over even the heftiest number 2 anyone could drop. So now not only do I have to worry about crashing, now I have to worry about gagging. Thank goodness it had been hours since I had eaten.
Hold your breath, plug your nose.
I wasn't sure how long I could keep this up, but the watering my eyes were doing on even a half breath led me to stick with the plan. Do not inhale through your nose.
After about 30 minutes in the air, I did a brief nose check, and I don't know if the stench had evenly coated the whole cabin or what, but it seemed to have dissipated enough where I didn't have to hold my breath. Still bad, but not gagville, and holding my breath was getting exhausting.
Moments after I was re acclimating to breathing through my nose, the flight attendant came over the air with a reminder not to congregate in the lavatories... or the aisles she added at the end almost as an afterthought to avoid drawing attention to what she was actually saying.
Odd.
Apparently people like to join the mile high club in the mile high city.
I giggled. I'd just never have the stones for that type of adventure.
But I find it utterly hilarious that someone does.
Well apparently that put ideas in other couples heads, because that announcement would be repeated THREE times throughout the flight. The line for the bathroom in the front of the plane continued to grow because the rear bathroom was clearly "occupied." I felt like I was on the airplane version of the Love Boat.
I wanted to turn around and watch the rear lavatory, but that just seemed rude. Maybe they just wanted a sealed place to escape from the cloud created by aisle lady's feet. Now that I could understand, as I had contemplated going to the bathroom just to stand there for a breathing break. I just wasn't convinced the stench wouldn't have breached the door and permeated the lavatory anyway.
Little did I know, it was about to get worse.
Aisle lady was about to strike again. With a vengeance. Apparently hearing the flight attendant come around and ask if anyone wanted snacks or drinks (none of which were complimentary) was enough to trigger aisle lady's recollection that she had her own stash of food. Down her head went, as she dug through her bag and resurfaced with a 8" by 4" by 4" plastic container like the ones you get at a deli when they send you off with a big ass hoagie sandwich.
Except this was no sandwich.
It was egg salad.
OMG.
Anyone that knows me that I abhor, abhor, the smell of a few foods. Canned tuna, potato salad, coleslaw, and egg salad. To add to that, I'm a consistency freak. The noises it makes when you dig your spoon into it make me shiver.
So as she popped the top on that bad boy, I immediately went back into breath-holding mode. What I couldn't escape, however, was the noises she kept making as she stirred it around and smacked it in her mouth. Even with my earbuds in I could hear her. LOUD AND CLEAR. I kept checking the battery life of my phone, hoping it was a mistake and I could afford to listen to something - anything - while she loudly swirled, sampled and stirred through what appeared to be a half gallon of egg salad.
To make matters worse, she was savoring it. Like she was eating a delicacy of immense proportions. This was not going to be a quick endeavor.
I somehow managed to quietly gag intermittently without losing any food myself. I refused to replenish my dehydrated self with water from my bottle out of fear I would lose it as soon as it went down, especially since there were no barf bags in sight.
The pilot somehow managed to only make us 15 minutes late... sort of. Aisle lady said we must have been speeding. "Thank God there are no police in the air," she quipped, clearly amused at her own wit.
How ironic that statement was... Ralph giggled.
Upon landing, we made our way to the gate, and no one wanted off that plane more than I. Apparently fate did not have that in the cards for me - or anyone else - anytime soon.
We pulled up to the accordion thingy, and people stood there and looked. And waited. And looked.
After 10 minutes the pilot advised us that they were having problems popping the hatch door.
OMG.
I landed safely, and now I'm still going to rot away on this plane. The lady that popped the emergency door on the plane a few weeks ago started to sound like a reasonable person with a reasonable solution.
Alas, just as the masses began to get really restless, the door popped open. However, as we have established, aisle lady did not think about others during our 20 minute wait to get off the plane. Apparently that seemed like an inopportune time to collect her belongings and empty the seat pocket. So as everyone else was itching to get off the plane, she blocked the aisle with her ass as she packed up her belongings and relaced her boots as if she didn't have to be anywhere for days.
I almost hurdled her, but someone a few rows back said "Jesus lady, you have got to be the rudest, ignorant, most self absorbed passengers I've ever seen... and I travel a lot." I couldn't help but smile. Freedom was feet away. No pun intended.
Perhaps they need to make a brochure on how not to be an asshole passenger.
My next flight will be with Southwest. If I can help it.
Sidenote: My mom called me while writing this asking what I needed for Christmas. I always say nothing. She also refuses to read my blog. If she read it, she'd know I need a new portable charger.
