Tag Archives: snarcasm

I heart traveling…

1 Feb

I recently hired a new product manager who works out of our Pasadena office. Which means I get to go visit my favorite cupcakeries (Dots and Violets). Schwing!

But this also means I have to get my ass back on an airplane for the hour long trip from Oakland to Burbank.

It goes like this folks… I fly Southwest Airlines, with the humorous flight attendants who like to sing and make horse-y noises when we land, and crappy Finlandia vodka. It’s like public transit in the sky, with open seating.

Because I’m a seasoned traveler, I’m an A-lister which is slang for “I get to board before you people with your small kids and oversized shopping bags. Ha ha!” and I do my best to discourage ANYONE from sitting in the middle seat. I spread all my stuff onto that seat, I talk loudly on my phone (even if I’m not really talking to anyone). I turn my back to the aisle and avoid eye contact AT ALL TIMES. One false move and the next thing you know, you’ve got a neighbor who wants the arm rest and a new BFF.

Now because I’m very thin and drop dead gorgeous (and apparently conceited), I tend to attract people to the middle seat. It’s not so bad when it’s an Asian person as they are generally thin themselves and tend to keep to themselves, but when it’s the fatties… Sorry heavy people, I must qualify the term “fatty”. If your waist size and/or overall circumference exceeds that of a plane seat, you’re a fatty. Otherwise, you’re just American.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I feel all sorts of sadz for fatties on flights. They just look so uncomfortable, all squished in and overflowing like that, but I don’t want them sitting on or rubbing up against me. It offends me.

Last week, “Pat” sat next to me. You know what I’m saying here. Dudette with a ‘stache, man-hair, man-hands, and man-pants. But with boobs. Pat was a 280-lady. She lifted the arm rest between us and literally shared my seat.

In fairness she was nice – we chatted about our mutual love of San Francisco – but she ate a scone on the plane and it kept crumbling onto her moobs and when she brushed said crumbs off her shelf, it landed all over me. Plus, she had some sort of apnia issue and kept making a gurling/grunting sound. It was undaunting and freaked me the fuck out. Did I mention Pat farted twice? I held my breath and placed my wrist against my nose just in case the gas smelled as rank as I pictured it.

Mostly, travel is easy. Except when I get lost. And I do love my heavenly shower and room service, and I don’t have to make the bed and there’s always fresh towels, and all my food and booze is free. So for one hour, I guess I can shut the fuck up and deal with some discomfort. Oh travel, how I heart thee.