Readers, I have this thing... this seating curse if you will, where if there is a weird person on the airplane (and there is always a weird person on the airplane), they have to be seated next me. I am weirdo magnetic. I never just get to sit beside some regular person who is traveling. Never ever. Not even when I'm sitting next to Neil. (BAAAAHAHAHAHA, it's funny because Neil reads my blog). Let me give you some examples:
-There was the 80 year old lady who told me all of her secrets like how she took a ladies tour to Tijuana and stayed drunk the whole time, stole her friend's husband who was the bus driver, threw someone's suitcase under the bus and other horrible things:
She also insisted that I should wear Lululemon sweaters just like her granddaughter. Never met this person. So I promised to look into when I landed. (Lululemon?? More like EwEw-lemon if you ask ME.)
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| Do you like Lululemon, Sweetheart? Do you? Do you... like it? |
- There was the woman who told me all about her breast implant procedure between my trips to the bathroom to throw up when I was coming home from Las Vegas. PS, I had the flu. Not even a hangover.
-There was the guy who insisted on keeping his seat beside my barfing 5 year old. Even though there were lots of other available seats. He also had a long, blonde beard. Unacceptable.
-There was the woman who told me how she took on foster children only to get paid and that her daughter was a famous news anchor but I shouldn't ask who. I didn't. I still regret it.
-And then there is always this person:
Not that I'm judging, Readers.
But, the friendliest of all was the guy I got to sit next to on our family's plane trip home from Honolulu:
He and his wife were struggling with their customs paperwork, so I helped them fill it out. I'm a nice person, you know. It's true. They barely spoke English and I don't know how much they read in English so I helped them decipher their shiz to pass the time. Going. to. heaven.
They were so nice to me in return. They thaaaaanked me so many times. Just really nice. Especially the husband.
So so friendly.....
But then he got sleepy. You know how that goes, eh? Just super, super sleepy.
So sleepy that he accidentally put his hand on my thigh while he was sleeping. Ok... shocking... Maybe he really did fall asleep or something... so I moved his hand. Probably jet lagged. Tired guy. THAT'S all it is. Yep. We can wrap this story up now.
Then 5 minutes later I look down:
ALright. ALLLRIGHT, GUY..... Fun time is officially over now. So I shoved his hand off, gave him an elbow and a really nasty look along with the "NOT ON YOUR LIFE" head wag. He didn't speak English, right?
He nodded at me like he was sorry.
I gave him an extra glare and a pointy finger.
All was calm again... Simmering down.... Ok, no need to make a huge deal. He gets it. He's back to leaning on his wife, who seems very disinterested in the whole scenario. Been there, done that, is what she's thinking. Yeah, this guy pulls shenanigans like this all the time. She's used to this.
A good 20 minutes pass. No events. Guy is snoring. Everything was back to normal. I was chatting with my sister who was sitting on the other side of me (we were in the middle row of seats on the 747).
Then, the guy's hand starts doing the flop around thing (in his sleep OF COURSE). Arm is flopping thisaway, arm is flopping thataway... but it was mostly flopping thisaway. I knew exactly what was coming, so I showed my sister who decided to discreetly switch seats with my Dad who was sitting across the aisle.
My very big, very tough, take no crap, very scary, used to be a bullrider Dad. The guy who dislocates his shoulder, walks over to a fence and pops it in then continues to chop wood, okay? The guy who punched a bear in the face (which is a story I will share with you another time). A Bear. In the Face. No lie, ask my Mom. It was trying to get his barbecue cover. Completely insufferable.
Anyhow, the guy's arm was getting terribly restless when all of the sudden, I guess that he just had to make himself more comfortable, so his head started to flop in my direction..... slowly creeping down toward me like I wouldn't notice him leaning on me if he went slowly enough. My Dad and I were watching the whole process silently. 30 seconds into his seamless act (which has no doubt worked for him countless other times), his head flops onto my shoulder and his hand accidentally flopped onto my boob. Accidentally.
So I nudged Dad and pointed at the hand boob dilemma. This guy is thinking that he's gotten away with something. He didn't notice the seat switcheroo. He didn't notice my Dad leaning over watching.
Dad's gorilla sized hand discreetly reached over and took hold of the man's hand. I think the guy thought it was me gently taking his hand for a split second because when he opened up his eyes, they said, "This is really happening for me!" Then my Dad said, "Let me shake your hand there, Partner".
There was a notable rolling crunch as Dad shook the man's hand and I watched the blood drain out of the man's face, sweat bead up on his forehead and he shriveled into the back of his seat like a wet cheese puff. He actually shriveled.
The hand slipped back over to his own side, cradled under his chin. He was definitely awake now. Dad and I then switched seats so that he would get to sit beside my Dad for the rest of the way. Wouldn't you know it, he didn't even nod off one time? I enjoyed watching Captain Romance sweat and stare into the back of the seat in front of him. Eyes forward. Silent. His wife perked up a bit too. I think this was pretty fun for her.
I worry about her.
Now, Readers, I know that there are more mature ways to deal with this kind of scenario... but this is my favourite way. It's just a little teeeeeeeny bit of violence, okay? Plus, I think the guy was cured of his pesky Narco-Feeleritis, too.
True story and Happy Birthday to my Dad.
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