The 4th of July.
Instead of beach BBQs or volleyball, sun tanning, or fireworks, I spent a day on an airplane, and I met Santa Claus. I never believed in Santa Claus as a child, and I was the one that made my baby cousin cry because I told her that the pudgy, white bearded man didn’t actually exist. After today, I need to call her and the North Pole to inform them that he’s taking a summer siesta in middle Mid-West America. I will also mention he is weird.
Very. Very. Weird.
He wasn’t the only standout passenger I interacted with today. We just had a plane full of characters, so I didn’t really have to pick and choose my favorites. No shortage here. One woman was enraged because the seatbelt sign was illuminated and blamed me for the fact that her bladder was about to burst. Please explain to me how your biological functions and turbulent air are my fault? Last I checked, “God” and “Flight Attendant” were two entirely different job descriptions.
The handful of complainers and the very high percentage of incredibly needy passengers, made me have the conscious thought, “Where did these people come from, and how did I get blessed to spend my day with them?!”
Oh Lord! Help us all!
In an attempt to get a moment away, I walked to the aft of the aircraft, to take a seat on the flight attendant jump seat that is located between two lavatories. It’s about as beautiful a setting as it sounds. In front of me, a man, medium height, belly protruding slightly, made his way toward the lav, a book held under one arm.
There are some things I don’t understand, and reading in an aircraft lav is one of them. Really?! Why would anyone, in any state of mind, think that an aircraft lavatory is a relaxing place to hangout and read a book?! And additionally, it indicates only a couple of possibilities of what is going on behind closed doors. I’m repulsed.
GROSS. GROSS. And GROSS.
Santa is gross.
After he emerged, he proceeded to stand directly in front of my jump seat; MY space! He continued to read, not aware or even caring who’s way he was in, and he, of course, was in my way! Already disgusted and not amused in the slightest, I wasn’t about to allow him to stand there, blocking my seat, just so he wouldn’t be interrupted from his enGROSSING read. (bwahahah…yes, pun intended)
“Sir, you cannot stand here.”
Raising the volume of my voice. “Excuse me, Sir! I can’t have you standing back here. You need to return to your seat.”
“Yeah! Yeah! I heard you.”
No movement. This man is treating me like I am not worth any acknowledgement. He is being demeaning and disrespectful.
Rolling his eyes to show his annoyance, a voice oozing with sarcasm, he waved his hands in the air for effect, “Ohhh, don’t freak out on me now!”
Oh, really? So you think I’m going to freak out on you?
He turned and sauntered back to his seat before my wit, or stupidity, or verbal vomit could expel itself. Oh, the words I wished to say! Mostly, in situations like these, I am so dumbfounded by how people act that I can’t find any words, the only thought surfacing is “Are you serious?!?”
People are crazy.
But, no sir, I’m not going to freak out. There’s no need for me to grab two beers and take a spin down the emergency slide. No, thank you!
It’s already been done before, and I don’t like beer.
Curious. Bubbly. Creative. Curating a life I don't need an escape from and inspiring you to do the same.
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