I really don’t mind all this traveling I'm doing, but I hate the people on the plane. I don’t want to look at them. I don’t want to talk to them. I don’t want to hear them, feel them, or smell them or their food. Is it just me? Am I anti-social?
The men are annoying. I used to feel this way when I rode the Long Island Railroad for many years. People are just damn annoying.
Especially the men. Why do they think they have the right to take up more than one seat with their arms and legs. Why do they have to sit with their legs spread out wide enough to trip somebody passing in the isles? People say men sit that way because of what they have between their legs. Well, I don’t buy it. Are their balls so damned big that they have to take up two seats? I mean damn! I doubt it.
Why do they feel like they have to also take up three seats while reading the New York Times? Them and their freaking New York Times. Do they think they are so important because they are reading the New York Times? I’ve got news buddy, we can all read the Times asshole.
Because of this, I hate the middle seat on,,, anything. Especially on a six hour flight to Cali. Because they could be doing their shenanigans for six hours on a plane instead of 35 minutes on a train. On my most recent trip to LA, I got the middle seat. There was nothing I could do to change it, so I was stuck. To the right of me there was a young girl. To the left of me a young guy. The girl was out of it. She slept the entire trip. The thing about her was, she was all over the place. Her head was bobbing so much it shook the whole row. A few times, I found her head on my shoulder. Great.
But the girl wasn’t as bad as the guy on the other side. Now, you have to follow me closely. When you are sitting on a plane, you basically look forward. Not side-to-side, right? When you look forward, you see what’s directly in front of you (the back of the seat in front of you). When you look down, you see your legs, your feet, your lap I guess. Your peripheral vision sees the backs of the seats on either side of you, those people’s legs, feet, and lap, right? You don’t see their face, because you have to turn your head to look side to side in order to do that.
Ok. So, as I stared forward, at the TV screen, so as not to look side to side at my neighbors (God forbid I should make eye contact), I can see movement in their laps through my peripheral vision.
Wait a minute.
I thought I just saw the guy adjust his junk.
Huh?
Did I just see what I thought I saw?
Did he really do that?
No he didn’t. He couldn’t have.
Oh yes he did! He did it again.
He just flicked his crotch.
Ok. Maybe he just had a little itch.
--
--
Minutes later…
Oh, oh! Did he do it again?
Yes! He flicked his dick, again!!
Oh my god! I have to just look forward. Just keep looking forward BSM, so you don’t have to see it happen again.
Please don’t do it again, asshole in 14D!! I can’t take,,,,
Shit!
He did it again!!!
Ugh!!!
Why???
Why me god!!
I can’t!
I don’t wanna see it agai….
Dang!
Not again! He flicked his Bic!
Mother fucker! Make it stop!
It didn’t.
This went on for six hours.
I was going to start counting the number of times he funked his junk during the trip, but then I’d have to really be looking and I just wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening. I wanted to be in denial of the adjustments of the package.
Does he have a disease?
If he does, I hope I can’t catch it. I mean, I’m really close to him and his fleas!
I swear. He must have done it over 50 times during the trip.
All this, while Miss Head Bobber continued to bonk her head up and down on my shoulder! God bless her. I can’t even take a flippin cat nap on a plane.
For the love of God, please make it stop.
It only stopped when we landed and deboarded. (Is that a word?)
Anyway, the only consolation was that on the return flight I lucked out. It was an empty plane, and I had an entire row of seats to myself. Thank God for little favors.
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